


Raw Elements: Fire

by ThatSassyCaptain



Series: Star Trek: Elements [1]
Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Gen, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mystery, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-14
Updated: 2015-05-14
Packaged: 2018-03-30 13:38:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 63,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3938800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatSassyCaptain/pseuds/ThatSassyCaptain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Enterprise is called out to an emergency in a remote system. Kirk has his suspicions, but could the stakes be higher than anyone suspects? When thorough planning is useless, there's nothing left but quick wits to save the day. (Cross-posted from FFN)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"What's our bearing, Mr. Chekov?"

"We are rapidly approaching the Hephasten system, Keptin. Estimated arrival time is 3.2 hours, sir!"

"Thank you Mr. Chekov." Captain Kirk sat back in his chair. The obscure little system in the outlying regions of the Beta Quadrant (The _Enterprise_ had been careful to give the Romulan and Klingon empires a wide berth) had captured Starfleet's attention. Before the _Enterprise_ had been sent to investigate, the Federation had paid little attention to the largely unexplored system. Starfleet was especially wary of the close proximity of the Hephasten system to the Neutral Zone, and wished to avoid all possible conflicts with the surrounding (a word here meaning easily irritable or excitable) empires.

That was before the little scientific vessel picked up a transmission.

The Vulcan ship _T'Vaan_ was scheduled to dock at a nearby Starbase to deposit samples and research from a large cloud of what turned out to be an alcoholic substance (naturally formed, oddly enough), when they picked up a transmission. The message was coded, but not in any code a civilization had used for centuries. _It was Morse_. The _T'Vaan_ had quickly deciphered the message by running the whole thing through their computers with exact Vulcan accuracy. The original message was sent off to Starfleet HQ:

_Save Our System—The saying we employ;_

_We find the problem increases by day_

_Hephasten we are, a people quite large._

_We require aid at the best speed. Please_

_Send help to remedy the disaster._

_Here, it is our people's darkest hour._

Needless to say, Starfleet had been intrigued by the Hephasten plea for help, far away and rather recluse as they were. The _Enterprise_ was ordered out with all dispatch to investigate the crisis in the quiet system with all haste.

Captain Kirk surveyed the bridge once again. He was getting a bit restless. Kirk had been on the bridge for several hours, and unsettling feeling creeping further into his conscious thought with every passing moment. None of this seemed wholly right. His suspicions had been aroused once he'd learned of the communications in _Morse code._ It was common knowledge that the Terran civilizations had used Morse code for secret messages or distress signals. _Heck_ , Kirk thought, _It's in all the history books at the Academy. I'm sure there's not a civilization acquainted with the Federation that_ hasn't _heard of it._ But, the nagging doubt remained. Despite all of his efforts to emulate his First Officer and _logically_ assuage his fears, Kirk was still on his guard.

As strange as the method of delivery was, the message itself was even stranger. The Vulcans had done a perfect job decoding the message- a simple enough code to crack, if the key had been public knowledge for centuries- but apart from the request for aid it made no sense. "A melodramatic load of nonsense," the good Doctor McCoy had called it. Kirk was starting to believe him. If this was a trap, it was hardly a clever one. _Drawing us in with talk of disaster only to spring… What? This could be a genuine distress call._ Kirk thought. _How many cultures have we encountered with customs that differed vastly from our own? For all we know, this could be the Hephasten epitome of brevity and distress!_ Either way, he was duty-bound to answer the distress call, no matter how unusual.

Captain Kirk had expected both possible outcomes, and made provisions for them. Doctor McCoy's team in Sickbay was prepping for survivors and the injured, while his Chief Engineer Montgomery Scott was tuning up the weapons systems and running diagnostics on the hitch in the turbolift. _Why not check on Scotty, see that everything's going smoothly?_ He pressed a button on the arm of the chair to initiate communications.

"Bridge to Engineering."

"This is Engineering. Scott here."

"How are things running down there, Scotty?"

Kirk heard a clanging noise followed by un-muffled shouts from the Chief Engineer warning that he would "shove ye out the nearest airlock, Crowley, so help me…! Get yersleves under control before I have to come mop up that mess with your- Johnston! Get away from there, bloody idiot!"

The Captain choked back his laughter. Scotty had his hands full, apparently.

"Sorry 'bout that, sir. I've just about got the lifts under control. Phasers are at full power, and the photon torpedoes are ready when you are."

Kirk blinked. " _Full power to the phasers_? Scotty, wasn't it just an hour ago that we had a power failure?"

"Aye, sir," his CE replied, "That and a malfunction with the Shuttle Bay doors- fixed 'em up nicely- and the Artificial Gravity was off in Deck 3, but I took care o' that, along with the static in the internal communications an' the misaligned locking system on the external inertial dampener. I'm sorry sir, but it's been such a busy morning, I haven't got around to fixin' those sticky doors in the rec room. If we could just—Stop muckin' about, Lieutenant! I've got half a mind t' come down there and rearrange yer- Ahem. Sorry 'bout that sir. Like I was sayin'… I would've been able to get to that earlier-

Kirk decided to cut him off before any of the Engineering Team got too out of hand. "Thank you, Scotty. You're a miracle worker! The sticky doors can definitely take a backseat to… to whatever it is you have going on down there. Excellent work, Kirk out!"

Both men signed off, and Kirk sank back into his chair. _Scotty just might be the cleverest man on the_ Enterprise. _Maybe just as quick as…_

"Mr. Spock. What kind of Intel do we have on Hepheste I?" Kirk addressed his question directly to his First Officer, swiveling him his chair to face the Vulcan.

Spock immediately retrieved the data from the computer. "Of the two research teams Starfleet has sent to Hepheste I since its admission into the Federation, one conducted geological research and the other a brief cultural analysis."

"Thank you, Spock. What did the geological team find?"

"Initial scans of the planet confirmed Class M status," Spock continued, "as well as atmospheric conditions similar to those of Vulcan. The presence of multiple active volcanoes on the surface limits the amount and location of populated land. Starfleet's meteorology team also documented sandstorms of considerable magnitude that occur periodically in the lands between Hephaste I's three major mountain ranges."

Kirk pondered the information. He had read over the Federation reports already, but with a focus on inter-planetary politics and technological advancement. Apparently, Hephaste I had no major allies, no prominent trade agreements, and little interest in technology past warp-basics. _For all this time, they've seemed to be content just keeping to themselves. I wonder what's brought on this sudden need for outside aid? Is this disaster really so severe that an otherwise self-sufficient planet requires a whole starship for the relief effort?_ Kirk's mind traveled back to darker and more distant times, when 'self-sufficient planets' had been overrun by disaster in a matter of hours. He though of one particular instance when the continued desire for isolation and a ruler's insistence on retaining power had made matters worse. _Sometimes, that only escalates the problem. We should be glad Hephaste called on us for help- that lets us know they're still able to do so._

Breaking his train of thought, Kirk turned to face his First Officer once again. "You said something about sandstorms Mr. Spock?"

"Indeed, Captain. Hepheste I has a dry climate and ideal atmospheric conditions for sandstorm development. The reports indicate that the severity of the storms can vary- some are quite moderate by Terran standards, but others are strong enough to rival the sand fires of Vulcan."

Kirk's eyes widened at the mention of the sand fires. If Spock felt it necessary to draw _that_ comparison, then these sandstorms were no laughing matter. The fact that the Vulcan chose to mention them in the first place assured Kirk that on Hephaste, atmospheric disturbances of the like were serious indeed.

"Alright, Spock. We'll need to have the relief crews equipped to handle whatever Hephaste decides to throw at us. Also, is there any specific cultural information that you believe could be useful?"

Spock glanced back at the computer. He had gone over the reports already, and his acute Vulcan memory could remember nearly every detail exactly. But, Spock knew that his ability for computer-speed recall and recap could put the human members of his crew on edge. _One grouchy Southern doctor, for example._ The secondary glance was made out of courtesy. Without really looking at the screen, Spock answered his Captain.

"The cultural study was brief, but thorough. It appears that the Hephastens, who refer to their collective as the _Hephats_ , live and work within large clan groups run by a matriarch or patriarch. The clan groups are close- the cultural survey reported that an offense to one could incite the entire clan- and should be regarded carefully. Another report indicates mercantile trade as their favored occupation. Successful merchants are highly regarded members of Hephasten society. The report goes continues in detail about the significance of meteorological patterns in the rituals of-"

"Thank you, Mr. Spock. I think that's enough to begin with. Once we've identified the nature and extent of the emergency, we can start working on the more… intricate aspects of Hephasten culture."

"Very well, Captain." Spock replied, returning his attention to the system's charts. Kirk swiveled his chair back around so he was facing the viewscreen. Somewhere, just beyond the _Enterprise's_ immediate sensor range, Hephaste I was waiting for them.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Sickbay had finished buzzing with activity. Nurses who had been working through multiple shifts to get the relief supplies in order were going off-duty by the dozen, now that the work was done. As the hustle and bustle died down, thankfully, so did the noise. The newly acquired silence was sweet music to Doctor McCoy's ears. He eased himself into a chair, letting his elbows and then his head come to rest on the desk in front of him. _At this point, who cares? Some hoity-toity admiral could walk in this second and I wouldn't budge an inch._ The desk was a cool relief and sharp contrast to the warm atmosphere of the Sickbay. With so many bodies coming, going, and staying, it was a wonder that the temperature hadn't gone up farther. He'd need to do something about the heat eventually. _But right now? I could just about hibernate._

Any illusions McCoy had about sleep were shattered by the all-too-loud _whoosh_ of the doors. He lifted his head to see none other than Montgomery Scott strolling inside. _Huh. Usually he doesn't come anywhere near here unless under orders, on a stretcher, or looking to have a drink._ McCoy pushed himself up from his semi-comfortable position behind the desk. Scotty smiled and made his way over.

"Good t' see you, Doctor McCoy! How's the early shift been treating you?"

The doctor decided to go the polite route and just glower. "Oh, same-old same-old. Everyone runnin' around like chickens with their heads cut off until about fifteen minutes ago. What can I do for you, Scotty?"

The Chief Engineer smiled sheepishly and raised his arm. For the first time since his interrupted nap, McCoy took a good look at Scotty, his doctor's instincts kicking in. The man was run down. Scotty had dark circles under his eyes, barely disguised by the smile. He was looking pale, too, paler than usual. _Lack of sleep, long shift, exhaustion setting in soon, if it hasn't already. He's likely been working himself into the ground, the idiot._ Pausing in his general medical deductions, McCoy refocused his attention to Scotty's arm, which was being supported by the other at the wrist.

"It's my arm, Doctor. Strained it a bit pullin' down so many maintenance hatches. Careless young ensigns… leavin' 'em open all the time… You never know when something could overheat, or if there's an electrical failure and-"

"Alright, alright. Come over here and let me take a good look at it." McCoy led Scotty to a vacant bio-bed and reached for his medical tricorder. 'A good look' constituted a proper scan, and McCoy soon had his results. "Hmm. Looks like you've strained it pretty good. Not quite a _sprain_ according to the little black box, but I'm gonna give it a good-ol'-fashioned once over just to be sure. It's the little things like this that can be real tricky if improperly treated."

McCoy held out his hand, and Scotty offered back his arm. Being especially gentle, McCoy tested the muscle groups and little joints in Scotty's wrist and forearm. Then, just for the medicinal heck of it, he performed a secondary scan with the tricorder.

"Well, in my official medical opinion, I say you've got a nasty strain. Not a sprain, but pretty close. I can give you a hypo of painkiller, just to be on the safe side, but it's nothing a little bio-brace and a few days light work won't fix right up."

Scotty took back his arm and smiled again. "Thank you, Doctor. But erm… how long did you say I'd be wearin' the brace for?"

Prepared for the objection, McCoy fired the prescription right back. "Two days, maybe three, depending on how well you can follow my orders." He cracked a smile at this last bit. Scotty was a stickler for the rules, always keeping his boys in line and maintaining the highest safety awareness scores of any department. _It figures, what with him and his little red shirts bein' knocked this way and that all the time. Heck, if I had to worry about so many things exploding in my Sickbay, I'd cram safety courses like I give hypos... Or at least the way Jim Kirk thinks I give hypos._

"Oh! If that's all! Heh. If you'd 'ave told me that three days ago, I'd've put up a proper fight, Doctor. With all these preparations for the Hephasten mission, we've been running those very same circles in Engineering, heads-cut-off and all."

McCoy chuckled. "I know what you're getting' at, Scotty. You and your boys work harder than anybody on this ship, except maybe Spock's gang, but I think that's just 'cause they're scared witless of dropping efficiency. I know I'd be, if I had that pointy-eared hobgoblin breathin' down my neck through three shifts, all the while tryin' to perform the chemistry equivalent of brain surgery. But, I sure appreciate the hours y'all have been putting in. I know it's taken a load off Jim. Haven't seen him this relaxed just before a mission in a while."

"I know just what you mean, Doctor. But I can't say I'll be upset with your diagnosis. A bit of a break will do us all some good."

McCoy nodded and started to the supply cabinet for a bio-brace. "Maybe try and get some sleep before we hit the system. I think Spock's got it charted to… 8 hours to arrival? Aha! Here you go." McCoy affixed the brace and shook Scotty's good hand. "Be seeing you around, Scotty."

"Aye, you too. Good luck, whatever it is we're lookin' at here."

"Thanks, Scotty."

He watched as the Chief Engineer left. _Scotty really does need that sleep_ , he mused. _Goodness knows we're bein' run into the ground, what with the Hephasten crisis so short after that botched diplomatic affair…_

McCoy glanced around his near-empty Sickbay. Some nurses were packaging the last of the multi-vitamin hypos in temperature-controlled containers. M'Benga stood in the corner, stretching out his back. McCoy called out to him.

"Hey, M'Benga, why don't you take a break? Things're pretty quiet hereabouts, and according to Spock we've got about 8 hours or so to arrival."

M'Benga smiled but shook his head. "No thanks, McCoy. I've only been working the last two shifts. Nurse Chapel just finished telling me you've been working nearly _four._ Why don't you take a break?"

McCoy had to grin. _Dang it, Chapel, I was gonna break my own record._ "Well, if _Nurse Chapel_ says it's time for a break, then I better hop to it. She's sneakier than me with a hypospray, and twice as fast. If anyone needs anything, I'll be in my office taking a power nap. But, don't hesitate to wake me if there's an emergency. M'Benga?"

M'Benga nodded. "Will do, McCoy. Although, if I hear working instead of snoring in there, I might have to take it over your head."

McCoy threw his hands in the air in mock surrender. "Heaven forbid you should call Chapel down for a little 'ol thing like that. You wouldn't really sic her on me before a big aid mission, would you?"

"M'Benga won't have to, Doctor."

McCoy whirled around to find Nurse Chapel smirking right behind him.

"Chapel! You've got to stop hanging around that blasted Vulcan! 'Seems his sneakiness is contagious."

"Well, I'd have to be pretty quiet if I wanted to sneak up on you, Len. You're wound tighter than a… a… Got a good metaphor, Doc?"

McCoy snorted. "Yeah, I'm wound tighter than this conspiratorial noose you 'n M'Benga have wrapped around my neck! If you're both so keen on getting' me to rest, then let me get on with it!" He brushed past Chapel, stomping his way to the office. Before the door shut, he called out over his shoulder. "If I catch anybody doin' any more sneakin' around, I'll start spikin' the coffee. That's an oath."

"Hippocratic?" M'Benga questioned cheekily.

"No, Hypocrite-ic. I _already_ spike the coffee."

With that, the door slid closed, leaving the Sickbay to chuckle quietly under new management.

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

McCoy was startled awake by hands gripping his shoulders. He was shaken roughly several more times before he could even get his eyes open.

"Nurse Chapel!"

His groggy brain was trying to put two and two together, but all he had so far was double vision.

"Len, it's bad Len you have to get up. Hurry!"

Chapel's desperate tone shocked him wide awake. McCoy bolted out of his chair and stumbled quickly for the door. He didn't even bother checking his computer for the time. He just knew it hadn't been nearly long enough.

McCoy rubbed at his eyes while Chapel dragged him toward the operating theater. _That bad, huh._ And it was. Montgomery Scott stood just outside the door, white as a sheet. He clutched the braced wrist close to him as the Doctor and Nurse hustled by. _At least it's not Scotty_ , he reflected as they passed. _No,_ he revised after getting a look at his patient, _this is much worse._

* * *

 

The light on the chair was blinking. Kirk shook his head. _Those things have technical names. I know what they mean. I need more sleep._ He pressed a button, _the one that lets me talk, yes I know, Proper Noun, Place Name, Technical Jargon._ Communication channel opened, Kirk spoke into the speaker.

"Kirk here."

" _Captain…"_

"Yes, Mr. Scott? Is there an issue with the Rec room doors?" He smiled, remembering the Chief Engineer's insistence on getting _every last system_ ship-shape. It would do them all some good to lighten things up, especially with the 'dire rescue' looming on the horizon.

" _The… The doors will have to wait, Captain. That's what I'm tryin' to tell you. There will be a delay in getting the screens up past 85% power like you requested… There's been an… an accident, sir."_

Kirk's stomach dropped.

"An accident? What's happened, Scotty? Is anyone hurt?"

Scotty sighed on the other end of the line. _"Only one casualty sir, but it's Crowley. A maintenance hatch was left open by mistake… Some electrical components overheated while the Lieutenant was making adjustments. A bit of shrapnel… clean through to the stomach, sir. McCoy is operating now."_

Kirk sank back in his chair. He didn't _know_ Lieutenant Crowley, only knew of him. _But I know he's just a kid. It's dangerous work we do but… Something like that shouldn't happen._

"Scotty, where are you?"

_"I'm calling from Sickbay, sir."_

"Alright. Care to meet me in conference room 7C? I need to stretch my legs a bit."

After Scott's shaky affirmative, Kirk eased himself out of his chair.

"Spock, you've got the Conn. I'll be back shortly."

Scotty was pacing nervously back and forth across the length of the room. When the door opened with a harsh _whoosh_ , he almost jumped. It was only the Captain. He let out a shuddering sigh, and Kirk must've seen it because his already glum expression fell further.

"Scotty…"

"Captain, before you begin," Scott cut him off. He had to get this out there and it needed out now. "I just want to affirm that I take full responsibility for the incident and will accept any disciplinary measures y'see fit to give."

The change from 'accident' to 'incident' wasn't lost on Kirk.

"Scotty, before we get into… How about you start from the beginning. Have a seat. Tell me what happened."

Scotty dropped into a chair and Kirk followed suit. They were both exhausted from the endless prep work. It was unwise, they both knew, running themselves into the ground just before a potentially grueling mission. Unwise, yes, but unfortunately necessary.

The Chief Engineer took a deep breath. "It started earlier- y' probably overheard the bit with Johnston an' the rest- tossin' things around like it was some game during a routine check. Usually it's fine, no harm done… Today, it was the same. Actually, nothing went poorly at all, y'understand, with the boys. Not until they came around to the maintenance hatches. They were just havin' a bit of fun, passin' tool chests back and forth, seein' how many they could hold. Evans had three, one too many, so he called Johnston over to help. He left a hatch open, must've forgotten. Crowley came back around, apparently, noticin' somethin' was off, and it just… it…"

Scotty's voice dropped off. He just stared at Kirk helplessly, the whole situation weighing immensely on his shoulders. Kirk knew he had to say something. He took a good look at Scotty. He had one wrist bound up in a bio-brace, and kept rubbing at it every time he mentioned the accident.

"Scotty, what happened to your wrist? Did some of the shrapnel-"

"Oh! Oh no, sir. Sprained it closing up maintenance hatches. Two or three closer to the engine room, another by the warp core. Not so many as would be a problem! I was actually seein' Doctor McCoy a bit before all this happened."

"So, you couldn't have been there to prevent it."

Scotty colored a bit and ducked his head. "I know what you're tryin' to do sir, but frankly-"

"Scotty." It was Kirk's turn to interrupt and Scott let him have it. "Scotty, you weren't there, and that wasn't your fault. I know you keep the tightest reins on your engineers. I have the safety assessment scores to prove it. This wasn't your fault." Kirk paused, trying to get a better feel for the situation. If only he had a little more information, he could better assuage the engineer's guilt.

"How often- Scotty, what kind of circumstances have to be in play for that kind of system failure?"

Scotty's posture seemed to lift at the prospect of explaining the lovely lady _Enterprise_ 's inner workings.

"Well, it actually takes a considerable amount of bad luck to happen, sir. There are several mechanisms that can be accessed from a standard maintenance hatch. Lots of useful electrical work is done this way."

"Alright. So, how do these components overheat?"

"It's actually a rare thing, Captain," Scotty began with a puzzled expression on his face, "There must be tremendous pressure on the mechanisms- imagine it like a gigantic fuse box-"

"An antiquated electrical-?"

Scotty cut Kirk off with a dismissive hand gesture. "Bear with me, Captain, I'm trying my best to explain."

Kirk nodded and motioned for Scott to continue.

"It's a gigantic fuse box, of sorts, spread out over Engineering. The mechanism in question was a regulator. When the hatch opens, many of the electrical systems are toned down so they can be operated on. That's why they can overheat- electrical buildup, over-taxation of the cooling system, a number of things. The box Crowley was working on was no different. Its primary function is to monitor the warp core and regulate power intake, temperature, things like that, something that would be routinely checked."

Kirk started suddenly. "Scotty! Are you saying the warp core is operating _unregulated? It's out of control?_ "

"Ach! No, Captain, nothing of the kind. The unfortunate little box was one of about thirty. We're well prepared for a meltdown, of any one the systems."

A sudden frown crossed Scotty's face.

"What's the matter, Scotty?"

"That's just it sir." He began, "We _are_ well prepared for meltdowns. Several safety measures have to be _disengaged_ and for rather longer than that hatch was left open. Johnston, despite his panic, swore up and down it was only left for about five minutes. Captain! It's just struck me, that's not near long enough- _not anywhere near it_ \- for that heavily trafficked hatch to up and fail after only a few minutes of buildup!"

A huge weight was lifted, for both men. But, the elation was soon flattened by another concern.

"So, Scotty… How did it happen?"

Scott blinked, pondering. After only a moment, a call came through over the conference intercom. Kirk was roused to answer it.

"Kirk here."

"Captain."

It was Spock.

"Yes, Mister Spock."

"Captain, there has been another report of electrical failure in Engineering. Electrical components apparently exploded within an unattended maintenance hatch approximately thirty meters from the engine controls."

Scotty's face paled, and Kirk was quick to respond.

"Any casualties?"

"None, sir. The hatch, as I mentioned, was unattended."

Scotty's sigh of relief could be heard from the other side of the connection. Kirk closed his eyes and felt the relief wash over him again. _This has got to stop._

"Spock, who was the crewman performing maintenance?"

"It was Ensign Graves. He reported the explosion and consequent system failure. He states that he was adjusting a portion of wiring, stepped away to retrieve his toolbox for ' _only a moment'_ and heard the explosion approximately thirty seconds after leaving."

"Only thirty seconds, Spock?"

"I doubt the accuracy of Graves' internal clock to be that-"

"Yes, I understand Spock, but, it was a relatively short amount of time?"

"Apparently, Captain."

Kirk turned back to Scotty, who had gone pale again. He studied his Chief Engineer. _Gears are turning, I can almost see. It. Is Scotty on to something?_ He had his answer when Scott burst from his seat and bolted to the door. He rapidly punched a sequence into the wall intercom, and opened a ship-wide communication.

" _Attention! All Engineering decks, evacuate the engine room immediately! Everyone out! DeSalle, set systems to auto-regulate and lead the evacuation. Move quickly, and for goodness sakes, DON'T go anywhere near the maintenance hatches!"_

Kirk shot up out of his chair as soon as Scotty closed communications.

"Mister Scott! What in heaven's name is happening?"

Scotty turned, some mixture of hot fury and cold fear circulating over his countenance. The volatile combination slowed Kirk to a stop.

"Captain, this can only mean one of two things: A severe malfunction, the likes of which I've never seen, or far worse- sabotage."

 


	4. Chapter 4

Spock made his way down the corridor to the turbolift. The emergency meeting in Conference 7C had brought all of the department heads to the table. Engineering, Science, Security, and Medical (delegated by Nurse Chapel, since Doctor McCoy was still busy in surgery) had held a summit while the arrival clock ticked down from three hours. Spock recalled how Chief Engineer Scott had delivered a very emotional oration on the compromised safety in Engineering. Spock had responded logically and suggested an investigation to be made at once by all relevant personnel who were not otherwise engaged by the mission at hand.

The question of sabotage was broached and debated thoroughly with Security Chief Freeman. He advocated a position of proactive watchfulness, a tactic with which Spock fully agreed. Future comings and goings in Engineering would be monitored and a small security team stationed outside each of the danger zones. Captain Kirk mediated while Chief Freeman questioned Scotty about the maintenance team's movements during the hours just before the first explosion. Theories were exchanged and short tempers kept in check. Chapel gave an update on the medical team's mission readiness, stating that they were all set for departure. Scotty timidly asked for an update on Lieutenant Crowley's operation, and Chapel relayed McCoy's last report: Crowley was currently stable, but the operation was going to be tricky. Beyond that, Chapel was hesitant to discuss publicly.

The meeting had been called when the Bridge reported in. Chekov gave the ship wide one-hour warning, and all of the department heads dispersed. Spock strode at a steady pace toward the turbolift doors. He was mentally reviewing the general briefing on Hephaste I, scanning for any pertinent information that might have been omitted from the initial reports. _Hepheste I, a class M planet, temperatures warmer than the average human would find comfortable…_ Nothing yielding in geography. The previous report stood. _Perhaps culture…_ He searched his vast memory for the file. _Ah yes. Hephasten culture: Organized into clanships… yes, trade oriented, affirmative… Proper society values- One moment. 'Proper' values are not specified in the report… Perhaps a review is in order._ Spock determined he would thoroughly search the file upon returning to his station.

The turbolift doors slid open and he entered. Before closing, the doors also admitted one rushing Captain Kirk.

"Captain."

"Mr. Spock. I'm glad I caught the turbolift in time."

"Indeed, Captain."

They stood in silence for the rest of the ride to the bridge. Spock contemplated the ramifications of an incomplete report; Kirk caught his breath and readied himself for the mission. When the doors opened again, both men returned to their stations without a word. Spock immediately started sorting through the Federation's entire file on the Hephasten system. To expedite the process, he ran a specific search for societal functions. His efforts were not in vain. A mere footnote on the intricacies of Hephasten textile trading provided his answer. ' _The textile trade is one of the more lucrative endeavors in the Hephasten mercantile system, in part for the Hephasten tradition of formality in both dress and mannerism. Formal attire is worn at almost all times, barring events of crisis or-"_

The report continued its description of textiles and their various functions in the commonplace. Spock found this new information both fascinating, and troubling. If the _Enterprise_ inadvertently violated one of Hephaste I's most basic social customs, they might be asked to leave or be refused the opportunity to render aid. This would complicate things for both the victims of the disaster and the crew of the _Enterprise._ They would no doubt have to accommodate the Hephasten custom of formal dress. Spock knew he must inform the Captain at once.

"Captain, a moment."

At the quiet request, Kirk turned in his chair. He met Spock's look and headed over to his First Officer's station.

"Captain, I have discovered some information that will be vital to pleasant relations with the Hephasten people."

"Let's hear it, Mr. Spock." Kirk rubbed a hand over his weary face. Any information on Hephasten diplomacy would be incredibly useful. In all honesty, the bare-bones reports weren't terribly helpful in that respect.

"I recalled a phrase from the diplomatic study that left some question in my mind as to its meaning and potential implementation. According to the report, 'Hephasten society upholds proper values and bases all interactions on these formal principles'." He quoted. "What the report excludes is the description of these values, which seem of immeasurable value to the Hephastens."

"So… Have you found them, then? The descriptions?"

"Affirmative, Captain." Spock displayed the footnote on textiles for Kirk to view. He quoted from the passage for his Captain's benefit. "Formal attire is worn at almost all times, barring events of crisis or severe destitution.' Though the planet is in a state of 'crisis', Captain, it would be prudent to adopt this cultural procedure. We may have more success in diplomatic relations with the governing bodies, or in communicating with local relief efforts."

Kirk resisted the urge to sigh. _Spock's pretty clever, spotting that little detail. It could make the difference between our success or failure. The relief crews are going to hate this. I can think of one… officer… in particular who will despise wearing dress uniforms. But, if it can get the people the help they need…_

"Mr. Spock, contact the aid teams. We have a little less than an hour until arrival. I'd like to see as many of them as possible in full dress uniform."

"I shall report the order at once, Captain."

Kirk turned on his heel and left the bridge to get changed.

* * *

 

McCoy strode out of his Sickbay. He stood tall and proud, despite his fatigue. The good doctor had been in the operating theater for the last seven hours. Crowley had made it, _thank goodness_ , but it had been worrisome for a while. The Lieutenant had lost more blood than McCoy was initially prepared for. The team, minus Chapel, had scrambled for the necessary transfusion equipment. _Well,_ McCoy mused, _it was a long seven hours, Chapel or no Chapel. We're almost there. The sooner we start this thing, the sooner we can finish it._

Spock's ship wide announcement came not a moment later. Regardless of whether or not he was alone in the corridor, McCoy threw his hands in the air and swore. He cursed the speaker system, the _green-blooded, no good, dirty hobgoblin,_ and most of all, the dress uniforms.

" _All crew members"_ Spock advised, _"Should report wearing their dress shirts and Starfleet-issue uniform trousers for both uniformity and safety. The terrain is hazardous, and as such, dress boots should be dismissed in favor of their multi-terrain counterparts."_

After Spock's sign-off, McCoy's shoulders slumped. He trudged the rest of the way to his quarters, grumbling all the way. Deep in the darkest depths of his closet, he found the accursed dress shirt and trousers. The multi-terrain boots were an easier find. They were little used in cities or on Class M planets, but if Spock advised them, then there must be a good reason. He was exchanging uniforms when the door chimed. Grumbling some more, McCoy wrestled with the dress shirt. "Yeah, come in!" He called once he had finished.

The door opened to reveal one Montgomery Scott, wearing his regular uniform top, dress pants, and boots. In his un-braced hand, he held two things: the hanger for his bright red dress shirt, and a bottle of scotch. McCoy couldn't stop from grinning at the sight of his friend. _In this case, 'drinking buddy' might be a more appropriate term._

"Mister Spock said t' wear trousers for this one. So, no kilts, I'm afraid. It's a shame. I thought we could both use a drink before this gets started." McCoy nodded appreciatively and went for glasses. Scotty made the scotch comfortable on the table. He hung his dress shirt up on the back of one chair before settling down. McCoy returned with the glassware.

"How's the arm, Scotty?"

"Oh, it's doing just fine." He gestured about with it. "Though, I'm at a loss for… Well… How am I supposed to go about gettin' dressed? It's sittin' there just fine with my one sleeve rolled up, but the dress shirts don't exactly have a lot of wiggle room now do they?"

McCoy pondered this. Scotty had rolled up one sleeve to accommodate the brace, but he would have a lot more trouble pulling it off in a dress uniform. The Doctor tried to come up with a solution while Scotty poured the drinks.

"What're the chances Jim'll let you stick with the regular shirt?"

"Slim to none, Doctor. I'll be down on the ground with the rest of my teams helping to repair… Well, whatever needs repairing! Hephaste I is a Federation member with warp-capability. Surely they'll have some life-support systems or irrigation lines…"

"Sounds t'me like you're tryin' to justify vague orders. I understand. The bureaucracy! Heaven forbid we make an _exception_ here and there. Well," McCoy raised his glass, "Here's to something to do. Hopefully there's somethin' down there to keep us entertained. I'd hate to see all these clever heads gettin' bored. _Then_ there'd be anarchy!"

"Amen to that, Doctor!"

They both drank an appropriate amount, considering their imminent return to duty. _Heck,_ McCoy thought, _we're still ON duty, and due to arrive any minute._

"Scotty, let's see if we can get that brace sorted out." Scotty carefully removed his outer shirt, but left his black undershirt on. It wouldn't be in the way. He'd need it, too, if the dress shirt proved to be just _too much_ , and befell some sort of tragic annihilation. Not that he had any designs to such an end. No sir. With McCoy's help, Scotty tried to push his braced arm through one sleeve of the dress shirt. No luck.

"I, _Ach!,_ don't think that's goin' to work, Doctor." Scotty hissed through clenched teeth. McCoy rocked back on his heels.

"I see. You're right, Scotty. I don't know what I was thinkin'. I guess all these long hours're catchin' up to me." McCoy shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "We'll have to come up with something else. There's only a few minutes left before we have to report to the shuttles. Any ideas? It's a shame we can't just tear up your sleeve. I mean, I know the braces're supposed t'be slim, but these sleeves are slimmer still." He began pacing around the room while Scotty contemplated his arm. Suddenly, his head snapped up.

"I've got it! Doctor McCoy, exactly how long would y' say we've got?"

"Oh, about twenty minutes, give or take. What'cha thinkin', Scotty?"

"Just a little idea… Doctor, can you sew at all?"

McCoy snorted. "Every physician worth their salt is versed in a stitch or two. We learn 'em in case of emergencies, like if we've got an away team stranded somewhere without anything but primitive medical aid." He made his way over to one of the low cabinets and removed a small first-aid kit. "Scotty, what do you have in mind? Scotty? Hey-!"

The engineer was already pulling McCoy out the door. They made a mad dash down the corridors to Scotty's quarters. The door swished open, and Scotty was rifling through his closet in a flash. His dress shirt hit the table with a _swoosh_. In a moment, Scotty stopped searching. He returned to the table with a pair of large black gloves.

"These are primarily used for dangerous electrical work, or repairs on overheated machinery." Scotty explained. He set the thick gloves on the table in front of McCoy and returned to his closet. He stooped to pick up another article and came back around. Scotty was holding a red uniform shirt. McCoy was surprised to see the gaping hole that stretched all across the front half. He was more used to seeing that kind of damage in Command Yellow, strangely enough, but accidents happened in Operations all the time.

"There was an accident a while back. Caught my shirt on fire. No other significant damage, really." McCoy checked out the singed edges of the shirt. Scotty's statement caused him to review his memory of the past few accidents in Engineering. McCoy was concerned and more than a little upset that he had _never been informed_ of the incident. His attention was brought back to the present by the sound of tearing fabric. Scotty was in the process of ripping the gold stripes off one sleeve.

"Scotty! Would y'slow down and tell me what you're plannin'?"

"Oh! Sorry, Doctor. I was just making a few… cosmetic adjustments...Here." He picked up the right-hand glove and held it out to the doctor. "I reckon if we can get the stripes sewn on one o' these things, it might look a bit more… formal." He finished removing the second stripe and handed the pair to McCoy.

"If you could just attach those, let's say, right about here," Scotty indicated a point closer to the arm-hole than the fingers, "This could work."

McCoy was starting to see where this was headed. The long gloves would cover Scotty's arm up to the bicep. The bio-brace would be completely hidden.

"That's… That's brilliant, Scotty! But what're you gonna tell Jim or the Vulcan if they ask?"

"I'll tell them the truth." He stated simply. "But if any Hephasten 'diplomats' decide to ask, I'll tell them it's the mark o' the Chief Engineer, a special honor earned only from valor under fire!" Scotty's grin was enough to make McCoy chuckle as he started neatly-but-hastily forcing the needle through the tough fabric. It was as thick as it was heat resistant, if Scotty's descriptions were anything to go by. This 'formal gauntlet' was going to be tricky to pull off in fifteen minutes. Unfortunately, Scotty's "sewing hand" was out of commission. While he couldn't help McCoy fix up the glove, he could implement the second, and slightly riskier, part of his plan. He wielded the pen-knife carefully. Before McCoy could ask any questions, Scotty cut his dress uniform sleeve at the elbow.

"Scotty!"

"It's the only way, Doctor! These people need help. If we're going to be able t' give it t' them, accordin' to Mr. Spock's estimates, we're gonna 'ave t' play by their rules!" Seeing how Scotty was getting worked up, McCoy held out his hand in a placating gesture. _He's just as shocked as I am. Desperate times call for desperate measures, Jim'll understand. I've cut up uniforms before in emergencies. I guess it's just a new thing for Scotty._

"You're fine, Scotty. Just surprised me 's all. Here- roll that sleeve once. It'll stop the severed edge from rubbing your elbow raw under this glove." McCoy finished up the last bit of his stitching and held the glove out to look at his handiwork. The only color thread he had available was black, but with some careful maneuvering, he had minimized the visible thread. "Here, have this." McCoy tossed the finished glove to Scotty, who caught it left-handed. The glove slid over the brace. Scotty was able to pull it back all the way past his elbow as expected.

"How's it feel?"

Scotty flexed his fingers. "A wee bit tight, but other than that," Scotty couldn't help but smirk, "I'd say it _fits like a glove."_

Before McCoy had a chance to throttle his friend, the announcement came for all teams to report to the shuttle bay. It was time to go.

 


	5. Chapter 5

The first thing Kirk saw out the shuttle window was the smoke. It was billowing across an enormous area of land. Out of the corner of his eye, Kirk saw other staring too.

"What could be happening?" Chekov whispered to the ensign sitting next to him.

 _That's what bothers me._ Kirk thought. They had almost no information regarding the disaster, save the unusual distress signal. No communications had been established yet. _I'm worried. If not just for the Hephasten people, then for my crew. If things are so bad on the ground that they don't even have communications, we might have a major problem working with local relief efforts._

As the indicator flashed, everyone on the shuttle _Copernicus_ strapped themselves in. Kirk looked around at his crew. McCoy and Scotty weren't present- they were seated safely on the _Galileo._ As the first bout of turbulence hit, Kirk remembered Scotty's injury. _Well, he reported in. Everything must be in order._

Little did he know that at that same moment, Scotty was thinking _'What he doesn't know won't hurt him.'_

Sulu found a safe looking patch of ground and brought the _Copernicus_ down. Once cleared, the teams began reassembling and exiting the shuttle. Kirk, in his best green dress shirt, exited with his logistics crew. The Captain's team was in charge of overseeing the aid, as well as negotiating any diplomatic issues that should arise. He stepped out of the shuttle and was immediately assaulted by the heat. It was oppressive. The landscape reminded him of Vulcan- all deserts and mountains in the distance, but with more red. The sand was tinted orange- not quite as bold as the fruit, but more of a bright rust color. The maroon mountains on the horizon reminded Kirk of a red sunset. _What's that old saying? Red sky in the morning…_

His fond walk down memory lane was interrupted by the appearance of the _Galileo_ to his left, and a new shape in the distance to his right. Step one would be to get everyone in order before they met anyone from the surface. Kirk walked quickly to the _Galileo_ to rally the troops. He was greeted by opening doors and the thudding footsteps of Doctor McCoy.

"Well, Bones, how are you holding up?" He knew his CMO despised the dress uniforms. _It's probably going to be miserable, what with Bones complaining about the shirt, and the heat…_

"Actually, Jim, I'd say I'm doin' just fine. It's not so different from a hot afternoon in Georgia."

_What?_

"I… uh… That's, ah, fantastic news, Bones! I'm glad to- … How's the crew? Is your medical team ready to go?" Kirk couldn't quite form words in response to this totally unexpected attitude. His CMO never acted like this.

McCoy moved away from the shuttle to allow the others to exit. "I'd say. They've been prepping extensively. M'Benga was up for two or three shifts straight making sure we were good to go. Chapel put in her time, even though she's staying on the _Enterprise._ Everybody put in their time. We're set for anything."

"Good. That's great, Bones. Anything you need help moving, sorting, or…?" McCoy was herding the Captain away from the _Galileo_ and back towards the _Copernicus._ The Doctor knew Spock was standing by somewhere. _If anyone can sidetrack Jim,_ he thought, _the hobgoblin can. I've just got to give Scotty enough time to get to work. At that point, there's really nothing he needs to be worried about._ The crewmen on the _Copernicus_ had been persuaded, cajoled, and threatened by Doctor McCoy to keep Scotty's glove a secret for as long as possible. The commanding officers were really the only ones that needed worrying about.

"Naw, Jim, we've got everything covered. Have you seen that pointed-eared First Officer of yours? I bet he's havin' a field day, what with this bein' so much like Vulcan." Spock was quickly located, and McCoy opened up with a suitably illogical and distracting statement.

"So, Spock, I take it you're going to be snug as a bug in a rug here. The wind whistlin' in your ears, the sand in your shoes, the whole nine yards. _"_

To his credit, Spock only blinked before responding.

"As… colloquial as your statements are, and however diluted by incredible illogic, I believe I understand your meaning."

"Thank heavens! Jim, do you have any idea how long it's taken me to get through to him? By golly, I'm a bona-fide computer-whisperer!"

Spock resisted the urge to sigh. "It would be illogical to whisper to a computer, for any reason. In response to your earlier… hmm…" Spock gave up trying to quantify the statement and continued his thought. "The atmosphere and landscape of Hephaste I is indeed similar to that of Vulcan."

McCoy said nothing, just stood there grinning. Kirk rolled his eyes. "Alright, you two. We've got a rescue mission to get underway. If I'm not mistaken, there's a welcome party on its way." He pointed to where he had seen the shape earlier. True to Kirk's estimate, there was a cloud of dust growing larger as its creators closed in. The trio split up to organize the troops. The Captain gathered up his diplomatic staff, which included Lieutenants Uhura, Farrell, and Palmer, as well as a small security team headed by Security Chief Freeman. He waved this group forwards while the other teams began unloading supplies.

Kirk's diplomatic team set out to meet the welcome party. As they neared, Kirk could make out individual figures. There were about ten Hephastens in the party. One walked out in front, closely followed by another taller figure, and then a small party of what must be the escorts. In a few moments, Kirk could start distinguishing features. The Hephasten people had orange skin and dark brown hair, an adaptation- Kirk had remembered- made in response to the harsh desert landscape and its predators. Their clothing for the most part reflected aspects of their culture- rich textiles and intricate stitch-work could be picked out from a distance. Now that the distance was closing, Kirk put a polite smile on his face. The welcome party was close. Kirk began taking stock of the individual members. The leader was dressed far more extravagantly than the others. He wore a robe of deep crimson under a long vest that was dark green and gold. The leader made a stark contrast to the rest of his entourage; most of the other Hephastens were clad in various dark reds and browns. The tall Hephasten immediately behind the leader was the only exception. He wore a very dark orange robe with a brown sash and boots.

Comparatively, Kirk thought his team looked pretty good.

Recalling the only sections of the report Kirk had studied intensively, Kirk began formal greeting procedures. He stepped forward from his halted team and gave a polite bow.

"Greetings, honored sir. Greetings to your party."

To his relief, the Hephasten leader returned the gesture.

"Greetings to you, Captain, and greetings to your crew. I am Blandus Varius of the Diplomatic Council. My people and I are greatly relieved at your arrival."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Councilor Varius. I am Captain Kirk, and this is the diplomatic crew from the _Enterprise_. The rest of the relief crew are unloading supplies from the shuttles." Kirk introduced his team and they bowed after their Captain's example. Varius inclined his head out of respect, and some of the welcoming party returned the bows in full. Kirk took another step towards Varius. He saw the dark-clad Hephasten tense slightly in response. _A bodyguard, then,_ Kirk thought. _Well, this Blandus Varius must be an important man._

"Councilor Varius," Kirk began again, "What is the situation here on the ground? We... ah… Did not receive information on the disaster, or its casualties."

Varius' expression changed to one of somber seriousness. "Of course, Captain. A proper…hmm… briefing is in order. I shall explain quickly, so that your crew may begin the processes of aid. Our planet has a long and destructive history of seismic activity. As such, we have adapted our structures and lifestyles to the ever-changing nature of the surface. Unfortunately, and despite our efforts, an unexpected fault movement has left our capital city in ruins." Something in Varius' eyes changed, then, becoming more sorrowful before slipping back into blank professionalism. "The great city of Flagratus was one of our largest and is home to a great number of the Republic's citizens. We have been able to … recover most of our people, but there is extensive destruction. Rubble must be cleared in order to reach a quantity of raging fires that have broken out in the city. Citizens are still trapped in the more crowded areas of the city. Captain, I sincerely hope you and your crew can provide aid."

There was a genuine concern in Councilor Varius' voice and attitude. Kirk's resolve hardened as he listened to the Councilor's story. He nodded once, and then turned to his officers.

"We need to split up and relay this information to the teams and their leaders. Excuse us a moment, Councilor." Varius nodded and Kirk huddled up with his team.

"Here's the plan. We're going to collaborate with the local aid forces, but we need to divide and conquer. We'll need the Medical teams to split up into two forces: Search and Rescue Aid, and Confirmed Casualty Aid. One will go with the rubble-clearing and firefighting teams, and the other will regroup with the Hephasten field hospitals- or _make some_ if they aren't already organized. Palmer!" The lieutenant stood at attention. "Inform Doctor McCoy and his teams of the situation and the plan." Palmer gave a nod and a 'Yes, Captain' before racing off toward the shuttles.

"Operations and Engineering," Kirk Continued "Will compose the majority of the rubble-clearing force. We'll need to identify the most critical areas of destruction and work from there out. We have the equipment and manpower to put a dent in those troublesome roadblocks. Farrell! Get Scotty and his teams up to speed. Scotty's clever and experienced. He'll know what demolition equipment to get ready." Farrell gave his 'Yes, Captain' and took off.

"Somebody needs to put out the fires. Sciences can handle the preparation and application of the _Enterprise's_ firefighting resources. They'll need to pair their teams with the Operations teams in a two-pronged flame control attack. Uhura, take the plan to Spock. He can put those scientific brains to work on logistical measures." Uhura small smile and 'Yes, Captain' in response to his little joke lightened Kirk's heart about the whole affair. If the crew could keep their heads at a time like this, then there was absolutely nothing he needed to worry about. _I have the best crew in the entire galaxy._ Kirk mused with a smile.

Chief Freeman stood at attention by his side. Kirk turned back to the welcome party.

"Councilor, we're ready to get started."

 


	6. Chapter 6

 

It was hours later, in the heat of the day, when Scotty became truly thankful for his overlarge glove. Though it got him strange looks from the rest of the crew, not a single one of them said anything about it. _That'll be Doctor McCoy's influence, I'd bet! I know I wouldn't cross him, if he threatened ME with those hyposprays!_ Besides the immediate distinction it gave Scotty, the glove also helped protect his already injured arm from splinters and dangerous rubble. Most of his teams had been issued smaller gloves for general safety, but Scotty found his heavy-duty 'armor' could handle materials at much higher temperatures than ordinary safety gloves would allow. Several times, he was able to help pull back pieces of near-molten metal so a science-officer-turned-firefighter could extinguish the nearby flames.

Scotty was always careful not to over-exert his wrist, lest he find himself unable to assist on the mission. One of the things the Chief Engineer hated was forced downtime. He made no small effort in constantly occupying himself with tasks onboard the _Enterprise,_ and was nearly as bad as Captain Kirk when it came to escaping Sickbay. Scotty would listen to McCoy's medical reasoning, and often half-hearted mechanical analogies, for taking it easy and resting. Perhaps that was the reason that the good Doctor had helped him out. Scotty was one of the few COs who would yield to McCoy's medical expertise. He understood about field specialization acutely, deferring to the opinions of trained experts when facing a problem in Engineering. McCoy was no different. He understood medicine the way Scotty understood warp mechanics. Scotty would concede to one more day of bed-rest than he would have liked, whereas Spock and the Captain would make excuses (Vulcan 'superiority' and natural stubbornness, respectively) to get out of Sickbay as quickly as they were able.

Fortunately for McCoy, Scotty noticed as they covered more ground on Hephaste I's surface, the Flagratian citizens seemed to submit immediately to higher authority. Medical relief, demolitions, and cleanup teams had no difficulty in getting the people to cooperate with them. In fact, the speedy response to requests and orders made all the difference. The _Enterprise_ teams were sweeping through the city faster than the wildfires. Though by no means safe again, the city was rapidly becoming less on-fire, for one thing. For another, the combined efforts of Scotty's demolition and clearing teams, roadways were reopening to an extent. Supplies were becoming easier to access. Much needed medical equipment that had made its way across continents could get exactly where it was needed. Though most of the Flagratians had received basic first aid before the _Enterprise_ had arrived, the treatment was largely inadequate due to the chaos. Now, all of the survivors had access to more complete and advanced aid.

Scotty glanced over his shoulder. One of the cleanup teams was disposing of debris. Using their demolition phasers- standard issue phasers that were modified for greater spread-accuracy and durability for the purpose of debris disposal or demolition- they cleared a path for waiting Hephasten aid vehicles. Scotty was busy with the other half of the team, manually breaking down brick structures so the useful material could be recycled. Because most of the buildings in Flagratus were faced with bricks, there was a large quantity to be moved.

It got hotter as the day went on. The brick-moving crew had worked up a sweat under the Hephasten sun. Scotty was burning up in his dress shirt like the others, not to mention the odd feeling of extra moisture on his entire arm. Despite the heat, the teams continued on. As long as there was work to be done and daylight to do it in, the _Enterprise_ teams would be working. Scotty kept this commitment in mind as he passed another couple of bricks off to the next man. The team had discovered that moving the bricks was a slow and difficult task, so they had adapted their methods. A few of them would gather around the main pile and hand bricks to their waiting teammates, who would then carry their stack to the anti-grav cart. Scotty strategically positioned himself at the origin of the assembly line. It wasn't out of any laziness that he chose this spot. In fact, Scotty had a fast-paced and difficult job. He just knew he was physically incapable of carrying a stack over any distance in his condition.

Ensign Gregory stepped up to the brick pile and held out her arms. "Load me up, sir!" She said with an enthusiastic smile. Scotty smiled back as he handed her some bricks. His whole team had kept up a positive attitude throughout the difficult work. Not one of them complained. Not one of them slackened their pace. And he couldn't be prouder. Ensign Gregory headed off with her impressive load and the next man in line stepped up. Lieutenant Paulson, from Scotty's perspective, looked rather unwell. Paulson's face was flushed dark-red, and Scotty knew immediately it wasn't from sunburn.

"Paulson? Are you alright, lad?"

The lieutenant blinked at Scotty and then nodded. "Yes sir. I'm perfectly fine, sir."

Scotty was skeptical of that, but trusted his men to be able to take care of themselves and not take unnecessary risks. He began piling bricks into Paulson's hands. Scotty stopped a few bricks short of a full load, but Paulson didn't seem to notice. _That's another bad sign._ The pile they were focusing on was nearly cleared, so Scotty didn't see any harm in leaving for a moment to follow Paulson. He didn't want to embarrass any of his men by publicly reprimanding them, and he figured he might also be overly suspicious. _The lad could be perfectly fine. In fact, he might just be a bit sunburned. Better safe than sorry, anyhow…_ He got up from his position on the brick pile and headed after the lieutenant. He had hardly traveled past the building's foundation when there was a crash and a shout. Scotty raced off in the direction of the anti-grav cart. Halfway to the cart, he saw Paulson sprawled out on the ground.

"Paulson!" Scotty raced forward and knelt at the man's side. "Lieutenant Paulson! Ameqran! What happened, lad? Are you alright?" Thankfully, Paulson was conscious. He sat up slowly with Scotty's help and tried to clear his head.

"Yes, sir. I'm fine sir. Just… tripped or something. Scraped my hands, that's all, sir."

Unfortunately, the latter part of his statement was true. Paulson's dark hands were covered in a myriad of bright red abrasions. He looked too pale, in Scotty's opinion. Something was wrong here. The Chief Engineer scanned the area for a Medical team, or just someone in Starfleet blues. He managed to flag down a nurse after only a moment. The dark haired woman was at their Paulson's side in a second.

"What happened, Commander?" She inquired, carefully assessing Paulson's condition.

"Well, I don' exactly know, beyond the fact that he looked unwell at the brick pile. I gave 'im a light load and followed 'im to th' cart t'make sure he was all right, but when I got here, Paulson had already fallen. I don' know much beyond that."

"Hmmm…" The nurse scanned Paulson's vitals with her medical tricorder. Her lips pursed when she read the information. "Lieutenant Paulson is dehydrated." The nurse took a water flask from her medical bag and made Paulson drink. "He'll need to rest for a bit. In fact… Commander Scott, can you call a break for your teams? Everyone should take the opportunity and drink some water. The area is dangerous enough without having to worry about dehydration or heat exhaustion." The nurse stood and brushed off her dress pants, which were hopelessly covered in dust already. "Make sure everyone is properly hydrated, Commander. We have enough to worry about already." She flashed a quick smile. "Let any of us in Medical know if there are any other problems." As she turned and left, Scotty called to the assembly line.

"Alright, _Enterprise_! We're takin' a mandatory water break. Everyone needs to stay hydrated! Medical's got enough t'worry about without us droppin' from the heat. Get in th' shade and take five." Scotty got to his feet and then helped Paulson under one of their temporary structures. The temp-tent was crowded over with crewmen already, but several of them moved out of the way for Scotty and Paulson.

Once he had made sure the lieutenant was out of harm's way, Scotty checked to see that everyone was drinking. Wary himself of the dangers of the heat, Scotty rehydrated as well.

* * *

Doctor McCoy leaned on one of the temp-tent's support beams. It _was_ just as hot as Vulcan. And dry, too. _What was I saying about Georgian summers? This is more like a Texas summer: no moderating breeze, no moisture… Well, at least somebody is probably enjoying himself. I bet Spock's in hog heaven with all this dang sand! He's probably bored the natives half to death with his enthusiasm. Wait, Vulcans don't do enthusiasm. 'Ardent devotion to logic' is probably as close as they get._ He took another gulp of water from his flask. McCoy understood the importance of hydration from experience. You didn't grow up in the South without picking up a thing or two about heat safety.

He surveyed the field hospital with a bit of pride. Before their arrival, the whole local operation had consisted of an overworked clinic staff with a few first-aid kits. Now, there were at least three field hospitals set up in the capital city, each with fresh medical personnel. Flagratians had come out of the woodwork seeking medical attention for themselves or for their family members. True to the cultural reports, the Hephasten people stuck together in close clan groups. Fortunately for the groups, the field hospitals bean serving a dual purpose: while the citizens received medical aid, they could reunite with the rest of their family. McCoy had witnessed several teary reunions between mothers, fathers, children, and grandparents. People who thought they'd never see each other again were having their hopes rekindled left and right. McCoy smiled. This was one of the best parts of his job.

He tried to stifle a yawn when M'Benga walked up, but it was too late.

"Need a break, Doc?"

"I'm just finishing one, thank you very much."

M'Benga looked skeptical. "I know there's a lot to do, but there's no reason to run yourself into the ground. McCoy, you're going to need to get off your feet before they drop out from under you."

McCoy sighed. M'Benga was right, but there was just too much to do. The treatment line was backing up around the block. No serious cases at the moment, but he really needed to get back to work. McCoy stretched his back and neck. It had been a long day, but it was only half over. He waved to M'Benga and took up his position near the middle of the tent. He was happy to see that his team was working well with the Hephasten aid crews. They appeared to be chatting amicably. McCoy remembered seeing other teams with similar good relations. The Hephasten people knew a good deal about wildfire control, he supposed, recalling the Hephasten firefighter's animated conversation with one Vulcan team leader. McCoy smiled at the thought of Spock deferring to an expert opinion. He was usually the expert in almost any given field, _At least, he thinks he's the expert in every field,_ and rarely had to take instruction from anyone.

On the other hand, most of these Hephasten relief agents were no more than nurses or small-time practitioners. They had very few surgeons among their ranks. This complicated things just a bit. All of the _Enterprise's_ surgeons had been occupied for most of the morning with correcting previous surgeries. In the chaos, many of the ill-equipped medical professionals had been scattered or rendered unable to provide aid themselves. Such things happened in a disaster situation, which is why speedy outside aid is invaluable.

McCoy cleaned and bandaged another cut. _Hephastens don't bleed green, at least_ , McCoy thought. No, Hephasten blood was a pastel yellow- light, bright, and everywhere. McCoy, from a human perspective, thought it was very bizarre. Curious, that blood would remind him of wildflowers that grew back home. _Oh well. Such is the nature of xenobiology. If blood can be green and pink, why can't it be yellow?_ The Flagratian thanked him, bowed, and left. They at least knew the need for efficiency. With so many others in need of help, the citizens that had already been seen to went and made sure that they stayed well out of the way.

The next patient came forward. McCoy looked over the boy, a child around the age of ten or eleven. He had a few scabbed-over cuts on his forehead, and several newer cuts on his hands and legs. McCoy smiled, trying to put the frightened child more at ease.

"Hello, there. I'm Doctor McCoy. I'm gonna have you fixed up in no time at all. What's your name, son?" McCoy began running his tricorder over the kid to make sure there were no internal injuries that needed seeing to.

The kid spoke up. "Greetings honored Doctor McCoy. My name is Aulus Valerius. I thank you for… for your taking care of me and my people." McCoy smiled. The kid was adorable. He was watching McCoy with big brown eyes wide with curiosity.

"Why, you're welcome, Aulus Valerius. We're happy to come help y'all out while you're in a tight spot." He started unraveling the new bandages. Aulus was beginning to relax, even swinging his legs back and forth off the edge of the cot. As McCoy reached for the antiseptic spray, his doctor's eye took in more detail from the young Hephasten. From appearances, the kid seemed to be poorer than most, but with clothes on his back and a mostly consistent diet. McCoy shook the bottle of antiseptic and addressed Aulus.

"Now, I'm gonna put a little bit of this on your cuts, Aulus, and it's gonna sting a bit, but you're need to hold real still. Don't you worry. The spray will help heal your cuts and make sure they don't get infected."

Aulus' eyes widened, but he nodded after McCoy's reassurance. To his credit, the kid didn't even jump when McCoy applied the antiseptic. The bandages went on with no fuss, and in a moment, McCoy was helping Aulus up off the cot.

"There. That wasn't bad at all now, was it?" When the boy shook his head, McCoy chuckled. "You're right. It was nothin' a brave kid like you couldn't handle." McCoy reached out and shook Aulus' hand. "You've been a model patient, Aulus. Is your family around here somewhere? Your mom with one of the doctors?"

Aulus immediately shook his head. "No. No, sir. My parents are not here. They live in the city of Humusian, on the other side of the Western Mountains. I live here with my uncle. He is working to clear rubble from the Grand Forum."

McCoy regarded the kid with a new respect. He'd gone to the field hospital on his own. _Hmph. Responsible kid._

"Alright, Aulus. I've got to get workin' on the other patients. Stay safe, and go find your uncle 'soon as you can."

Aulus nodded vigorously. "Many thanks and farewell, Doctor McCoy."

 _That's what I like about these Hephastens,_ he thought as the next patient came forward, _they have excellent manners._

* * *

Night was falling. McCoy caught up to Scotty towards the end of the evening. So far, he'd managed not o aggravate his wrist beyond the elastic protection of the bio-brace. McCoy was pleased. The sky was nearly clear, since most of the fires had been extinguished. Stars started appearing in the south as McCoy and Scotty trekked back to the main field hospital. They had just witnessed the tail-end of a spectacular Hephasten sunset. Vivid purple streaks still trailed across the sky.

Scotty sat down on an open cot as instructed. The field hospital was crowded, but it was only one of dozens of shelters that had been set up after the disaster. McCoy helped the Chief Engineer get his glove off. The bio-brace was still firmly in place and functioning properly. McCoy picked up his tricorder and read its digital report.

"OK. Scotty. You've got to take it easier tomorrow. I'm pickin' up additional muscle strains, or at least more than there should be, with the brace operatin' at full capacity. Is there any supervisin' job or some such thing you can do?"

Scotty sighed. He'd really hoped the twinges in his arm had been the brace healing him instead of the painful fruit of his labors. "Aye, Doctor, I could try. No guarantees, though. If I see a job that needs immediate doin', by golly, I'm gunna do it!"

For a moment, the two men tried to out-scowl each other. Not breaking his sternest 'doctor's gaze' McCoy addressed Scotty. "If I catch you over-exerting yourself, I will have no compunctions 'bout sedatin' you till you're healed up to my standards."

Scotty couldn't help but grin. "Aye. That's understandable. But, _you'd have t'catch me first!_ "

Both men chuckled in earnest at the very idea. They laughed until McCoy caught sight of one Jim Kirk headed right for them.

"Scotty…" He said in a low tone, still keeping a huge smile on his face. "Act natural, but get that dang glove back on quick! Jim's comin'!"

Scotty's mirth broke for a moment, but he recomposed his humor quickly. The glove wouldn't slide on too quickly, so Scotty had to think fast. He grabbed the sheet up off the cot and threw it around his shoulders. He slid his injured arm underneath the sheet and held the fabric close with his other hand.

"Good thinking, Scotty." McCoy hissed just before Kirk came to stand next to him.

"Howdy, Jim!" McCoy's face lit up in a too-large smile, one that seemed more unnerving to Kirk, what with the exhaustion lines painted on the doctor's face.

"Evening, Bones. Scotty. What are you up to?"

"Nuthin', sir!" Scotty chimed in. "I was jus' tellin' Doctor McCoy about some stubborn lieutenants o' mine. Thinkin' just 'cause they're big, tough, Starfleet gentlemen that they don' have t'stay hydrated!"

McCoy scowled for effect and then snorted. "These fellas think they know better than their training. I thought between M'Benga 'n me we'd have this stuff drilled into 'em. It's a shame that these bright lads and ladies are lackin' in a bit of common sense!"

It was Kirk's turn to chuckle. "I'll put in a word with them, Bones. The Flagratian High Senate has organized housing for our troops in a larger bunker on the outskirts of town. It's been inspected and declared completely safe."

"What about the survivors? The Flagratian citizens?" Scotty inquired with some concern in his voice.

"They have separate housing provided by the High Senate." Kirk answered. "Spock talked to some of the Senators. They were very impressed with our efficiency. I'd say they were eager to assure Spock of their competence in handling the situation. They seemed like they were trying to impress him."

"Huh. What d'ya know about that? Our Vulcan's found a home away from home." McCoy declared.

"I would not go so far as to say that, Doctor."

McCoy leapt nearly a foot in the air. He spun around and shoved a finger in Spock's face.

" _What on earth d'ya think you're doing sneakin' up on me like that?"_ McCoy nearly shouted.

Spock's head shifted back a fraction in surprise. "Well?" McCoy snapped.

"Doctor. I had no intentions of 'sneaking up' on you." From Scotty's view of the situation, as he'd seen similar antics before, something had gone wrong. Spock often utilized his 'Vulcan sneakiness' for the benevolent antagonizing of Doctor McCoy. More often than not, McCoy would turn around and grouch about Vulcan espionage. Not today.

"I apologize if I have startled you, Doctor." McCoy was still glowering, but his stance changed from attack-ready to slightly less offensive.

"Alright, Spock. I know you weren't doin' it on purpose. It's been a long day." Scotty watched as McCoy turned back around, looking more exhausted than he might have ever seen.

"Bones…" Kirk began slowly so he would not be pounced upon. "Maybe we should all call it a night. The High Senate showed Spock and I the way to our lodgings." McCoy rubbed a hand across his face.

"Fine. Ok, Jim. Lead the way."

Spock and the Captain headed out from under the temp-tent with McCoy ambling behind them. Scotty gripped the sheet, stood, and breathed a silent prayer. He grabbed the glove from where he'd hastily shoved it under the cot and hurried after his fellow COs. McCoy hung back to wait on him. Scotty burst out of the temp-tent and quickly matched pace with McCoy.

"The way I see it," he began once they'd found a comfortable stride, "It gets awfully cold in the desert at night."

McCoy responded with a nod. "Gee, I hope so."

 


	7. Chapter 7

They had nearly made it back to their assigned lodgings. Really, they were _so close_. Spock had relayed the directions to the rest of them in exact logical clarity. The hotel was on the outskirts of town and survived with minor cosmetic damage. Spock continued with descriptions of the Flagratus that existed before the seismic disaster. Historically, the area never experience any sort of seismic anything. All of the sudden, about twenty years ago, minor tremors began occurring. These were infrequent, but built intensity until a few days ago, when one caused unprecedented destruction.

Spock was going on about other 'fascinating' bits of history, when the party was intercepted. A Hephasten man appeared ahead of them. Kirk and Spock slowed, bringing McCoy and Scotty to almost a full stop behind them. The man approached them quickly. He seemed a common sort of fellow, with a dark brown shirt, ordinary vest, and dark trousers. However, he wore a green sash that marked him as a messenger to the High Senate. Another cultural tidbit Spock had provided: Dark Green was the official color of the High Senate, and all its members and employees wore it in some form or fashion.

He stopped a few feet in front of Kirk and bowed.

"Honored Captain, you and your command staff are invited to the High Senator's banquet as guests of honor."

Kirk blinked. "Banquet? I was unaware that there was a banquet on, especially after all this." He looked at Spock, then back at McCoy and Scotty- noticing for the first time Scotty's sheet. "We're…ah… hardly dressed for a formal dinner."

"It is of no concern. The High Senators understand that… such times call for appropriate measures?"

Spock caught the gist of what the messenger was trying to say. "The wording is unusual, but the meaning is clear." He gave a nod at the man's effort with an obviously unfamiliar colloquialism.

The messenger bowed in thanks. "Will you attend, Honored Captain and Officers?"

McCoy sighed deeply but said nothing. Scotty kept quiet too. Maybe Kirk would forget about the sheet. Kirk turned to Spock, who gave the eyebrow equivalent of an accepting shrug.

"We would be delighted to attend the banquet. Would you lead the way, Mister…?"

"Sergius Evandrus, humbly at your service." Evandrus bowed in greeting.

"Thank you, Mr. Evandrus. I am Captain Kirk. This is my First Officer, Spock. Our comrades are Chief Engineer Scott, and Chief Medical Officer McCoy." Kirk didn't bother with official ranks, lest he confuse the man any more than the strange circumstances already had.

"It is a pleasure, esteemed gentlemen. If you would follow me…"

To McCoy's delight, the walk wasn't far. Kirk and Spock got caught up in a discussion with Evandrus on the way, so McCoy slipped back and helped Scotty get the glove back on.

"That was pretty sharp, Scotty, remembering the glove." He whispered as they quietly struggled to get the offending thing back on Scotty's arm, while they were walking. In the dark. Then, the wind started picking up, whipping the both of them with Scotty's sheet. Eventually, they got it together. Not a moment too soon, either. The group rounded the next corner and found a well-lit building awaiting them. The wind was really howling now. Evandrus hurried them all inside as the sand began to pelt any exposed skin. If McCoy wasn't grouchy before, he was now. He'd never been one for flying sands. He remembered loving the beach as a kid, that is, until a wayward thunderstorm started picking up wet, gritty clumps and flinging them with the stinging velocity of tiny hailstones. No, he wasn't particularly fond of flying sands.

Once they were all inside, they brushed most of the grit from their hair and followed Evandrus to a good-sized dining room. There was a high table, with tall chairs and taller table decorations. A two-foot candelabrum sat lit in the center. A platter of polished bronze kept wax from getting onto the immaculate green tablecloth. Single candles were held up on odd spires along the centerline of the table. Around the table itself, the Starfleet men saw what must be five or six High Senators. Blandus Varius sat with his bodyguard over in the corner and inclined his head to the new arrivals. Kirk returned the nod and was guided to his seat. Evandrus exited quickly after Kirk and his companions had been seen to. Kirk, Spock, Scotty, and McCoy were seated side by side on one edge of the table. Varius and the other Senatorial diners were seated by what appeared to be seniority on the other side and ends of the table.

Kirk's attention was drawn to the head of the table, where an elegantly clad Hephasten man sat. He held an ornamental wine glass identical to the ones places around the table, but in that respect his perceived equality ended. He had a sharp look about him, like someone in power. The man's formal outfit attested to this. His formal robe was green, with gold stitch work present throughout the material. Over his robe, he wore a deep blue tunic with gold edging. He had several medals pinned to his tunic, along with a shoulder sash dyed dark red. _Blood red,_ McCoy thought. _Well, human blood anyway. I suppose this is maybe how they feel about our Command Gold tunics. Almost. I doubt that shade matches quite so well as this sash does… Matches very closely…_

McCoy was dragged from his train of thought by the sound of clanging glasses. He looked up and the table was full. The clashing metal had signified the arrival of all the guests, and the consequent beginning of the meal. Several servants appeared from behind a rough wooden door. For the first time, it occurred to McCoy that he hadn't seen any trees since they'd landed. _Maybe they import it._

The servers brought out a multitude of bronze platters, each of which arrived in front of a diner. While this was going on, Scotty eyed the cutlery. It consisted of a deep spoon and a curved knife. Simple enough. He had draped his sheet over the back of his chair, since he didn't want to explain its random disappearance to the Captain. There was enough suspicious activity already. Scotty intended to eat with one hand for the majority of the meal. He'd rather ignore the glove than come up with an excuse for it on the spot.

The man at the head of the table stood. Chairs screeched backwards as the other High Senators and Starfleet men followed suit. The man raised his wineglass.

"I present this banquet with you as witnesses, the esteemed High Senate. In light of the recent tragedy and with hope for the coming days, tonight, we drink the wine of the Great Harvest. Our fathers have sowed, now we shall reap. Let us not continue in grief for our fallen, but again, in hope for the new day! The hope that has been brought to us by the _USS Enterprise!"_ The last words rose up in a triumphant shout, which was taken by the other High Senators.

"They really seem to like us." Kirk murmured to Spock.

"Indeed, Captain."

The other glasses were raised, and the toast made. Everyone took a gulp from their glass. McCoy and Scotty, accustomed to the taste of alcohol by years of practice, were expecting unusual but light wine.

They were wrong.

Cold flames licked the inside of McCoy's throat. In fact, his mouth and entire esophagus were burning. This Hephasten wine had a spicy quality that rivaled anything he'd ever been able to swallow. It took everything he had not to spit the whole mix out and ruin the manners his mama had instilled in him. Looking to his left and right, he noticed Jim and, to a slightly lesser extent, Scotty were having the same problem. Spock was a consistent neutral and didn't need checking.

Kirk, after choking the stuff down, managed a half smile.

"Whoa. That's strong stuff." He commented to no one in particular. His observations were picked up on by all members of the table, however. To Kirk's great relief, the man at the head of the table laughed heartily.

"Oh yes! I had forgotten! The last time a Federation ship visited, the crew reacted in a similar way. But, I am surprised! You have all managed it! Ha ha! One poor fellow from the… What was the ship…? _The Doyle!_ Yes. The poor lad spit the wine all over his shirt-front. Ha! We had a great laugh that night!"

Kirk and Scotty joined in the general laughter. Spock, a proper Vulcan, did not laugh. McCoy was scrutinizing the contents of his glass.

"Forgive me, esteemed guests," The booming voice began once again, "We are not all acquainted. Allow me to introduce my Senate." He gestured down the other side of the table, giving the Senator's name and department or specialty. "Cato Demius, of the Financial Council. Fabricus Cassianus, Head of the Council of Infrastructure…" He went on until he reached Varius. "Ah! You remember Blandus Varius of the Diplomatic Council, surely?" They nodded and gave greeting to Varius, who politely but briefly returned them.

"Good, good. Ah, but you may not know the Senate's Security Head: Celcus Tacitus!" Tacitus simply bowed. "Yes. Oh! Esteemed guests, I introduce myself. Your humble host, Gallus Bellona, of the Council of Defense."

"Greetings, esteemed Senate." Kirk addressed the group. "And thank you, Councilor Bellona, for generously hosting this banquet. We are all quite honored to be in attendance." Ever the orator, Kirk got several nods and appreciative looks.

"We are indebted to _you_ , Captain, and your crew!" Bellona continued. "But, I am sure you are very hungry after a long day. Let us begin the meal!" Bellona raised his hands, gesturing for everyone to sit. They all did so. Servers appeared once again. They brought out smaller glasses and what appeared to be condiments. The glasses were placed in front of every diner. The platters were uncovered to reveal an apparent Hephasten delight, judging by the reactions of the High Senators. There was some sort of orange-brown meat, grilled and set on what looked like blue lettuce. There was a quantity of cooked grains to one side. The steamy purple stuff actually looked appetizing. _All in all, not an entirely foreign meal_ Kirk thought, _if color can be discounted. I hope this stuff isn't near as… spicy as the wine…_

McCoy knew his etiquette. The rule was, as he knew: until the host picked up his fork, you didn't touch a thing. They only had spoons, but the intent was the same. He was just itching to get at that little cup of water. One of the servers had come around with a tray of four glasses and served the Starfleet men first, no doubt because of their reaction to the wine.

He was about to do it, about to break etiquette because of the fierce burning in his throat. Kirk, Spock, and Scotty might have already had some. He didn't know. His focus was locked in on that little cup. There was a clink. Bellona lifted his spoon full of grain. As McCoy's hand twitched up from his side, another server appeared next to him with a condiment tray.

"Do not, please, drink the water."

The whisper was so low and quick, that McCoy thought he might have been imagining things. He looked at the server out of the corner of his eye. The man's face was impassive.

"Do not," his lips barely parted, "drink the water. For your own safety."

McCoy still did not turn his head at the obviously covert activity while the server placed small bowls on the table.

"I am Aulus' uncle. You are a good man among good men. Do not drink the water if you value your life."

Aulus' uncle vanished as soon as the last bowl left his tray. McCoy thought quickly. To cover any of the conversation that might have been observed, he grabbed the first little bowl he saw.

"Hey, Scotty, I heard _this_ is the good stuff." Scotty turned, and McCoy dished out a quantity onto the other man's plate. From the close proximity, he hissed "Don't drink the water."

Before waiting to see if Scotty understood the message, McCoy turned to his other side.

Spock brought the little glass back down from his lips and swallowed.

McCoy's mind was flying. He grabbed Spock's wrist, pulling it and the cup back to the table.

"Never mind that Spock." His gaze locked with the Vulcan's. "You've got to try this stuff. But _don't let Jim have any. He might become attached._ " McCoy released Spock's arm and started spicing Spock's meat, knowing the Vulcan wouldn't be eating it. If the message didn't get across this way, he didn't know what would.

"Thank you, Doctor. I shall… endeavor to do so." Spock turned back to his meal, and McCoy could only hope he understood. Moments later, when Jim's diplomatic bravado wore off and he finally reached for the water, his hand jolted back suddenly. _Did Spock just- no! That wily Vulcan just kicked Jim under the table!_

Jim looked at Spock with an almost hurt expression. He was asking: _Do I really have to?_

"Captain. Doctor McCoy has brought to my attention a most interesting spice…"

McCoy sighed in relief and scooped up some of that purple stuff. If he couldn't drink the water, he might as well enjoy the meal. As he swallowed the grain, he remembered. _Spock._ McCoy had to keep up the appearance of normalcy. He shot a quick glance over at the Vulcan, who seemed perfectly fine. _Maybe whatever it is doesn't affect Vulcans. Yeah, that's probably it. Spock's always going on about his 'superior invulnerability'. He's tough. It's probably nothing._

McCoy continued eating. He checked on Scotty once during the meal, only to find that the Scotsman had developed a _taste_ for the Hephasten wine. McCoy rolled his eyes in exasperation. _Leave it to Scotty, resident connoisseur. Heaven help me, this mission might be my last!_ He looked around the table. All the other Senators, Varius included, seemed to be drinking only the wine. It was understandable, since Hephastens had this kind of stuff more often than humans. But, McCoy observed, not once did one of them touch their water glass. When Blandus Varius looked up and _caught him looking_ , McCoy smiled and gestured to the dish. "It's delicious," he complimented with another grin. They looked away from each other. McCoy decided he was done with covert observation.

Something that was probably dessert was served after a while. McCoy was alarmed to find Spock fidgeting next to him. Spock just didn't do it. Never twiddled his fingers, never drummed his nails on a console, nothing. To find Spock twirling a spoon in his hand was cause for worry, so McCoy thought. _He's trying to occupy finer motor skills. I bet Spock's fighting whatever was in that drink._ If Spock had to show _outwardly_ that he was preoccupied, then something serious was occurring. Jim noticed too, and shot McCoy a worried look. The good doctor gave a quick shake of the head, and then smiled towards Jim's plate.

"It's good, right? I wonder if we can talk the recipe outta 'em?"

Jim's 'actor's smile' lit up his face. "Well, we can certainly try, Doctor. But, I doubt a secret this good is on display! It's probably closely guarded."

After that, they both shoved the gelatinous dessert around with their spoons. The meal was rapidly coming to an end. Kirk noticed an unusual silence had fallen over the room. He looked up from his scattered dessert. Gallus Bellona stood.

"Well, gentlemen, I suppose we had better disperse. It is getting rather late, and we have a long day ahead of us all." Everyone stood, and Scotty discreetly pulled his sheet over his arm in the way one would carry a coat. Kirk threw him a look, but didn't focus much on it. McCoy shifted nervously in place. Spock, to his credit, stayed perfectly still, despite his dire need to keep twiddling the cutlery.

The High Senate dismissed. Kirk made it to the door first, but was stopped by a voice.

"Captain, a word, if I may." It was Gallus Bellona. Kirk waved for McCoy and the others to wait outside. A Senatorial guard and Chief of Security Celcus Tacitus approached them from the hallway.

"Esteemed officers." The guard addressed them. "We will escort you back to your lodgings." Spock nodded once, and then took the lead. Scotty followed close behind him, with McCoy bringing up the rear. They marched down one hallway, turned, took another, and continued down a dim corridor. Their footsteps didn't echo off the softer flooring, so McCoy had no warning when he was grabbed from behind. He was pulled quickly into a darkened doorway. Adrenaline kicked in, and McCoy did his best to fight off his attacker. The assailant had McCoy's arms pinned, so there wasn't much he could do there.

"Stop!" A voice hissed. "Stop, Doctor! It is I, Aulus' uncle. You are all in grave danger." McCoy stopped struggling as this and another sound reached his ears. There was a scuffle and a thud in the hallway. He leaned forward to peek out into the hallway. Aulus' uncle allowed this, but kept a firm grip on McCoy's arms, in case the Doctor had any ideas about leaving. McCoy could see four figures moving further down the darkened hallway. One was the tall and obvious figure of Tacitus. He seemed to be grappling with a much shorter man. _Scotty,_ McCoy's brain supplied when he saw the thicker arm. The other guard was kneeling over a prone figure _which could only be Spock!_ McCoy tensed and got ready to rush to the Vulcan's aid, but Aulus' uncle held him back.

"Do not go out there!" The Hephasten whispered. "You will surely be captured. Celcus Tacitus is a vicious warrior." McCoy had no other choice but watch as the fight went on. The sheet became Scotty's downfall, literally, as he stepped back and slipped on it. Tacitus was on him in an instant, delivering a stunning blow. The other guard had Spock slung over his shoulder already. Tacitus quickly hoisted Scotty.

"Where has the other one gone? The Doctor?" Spock's captor whispered.

"He is no doubt with the Captain." The gravely voice of Tacitus surprised McCoy. "It is no matter anyhow. We have what we came for. If it bothers you so much, send word to Summanus." The two men and their prisoners disappeared into a doorway. McCoy heard the tell-tale click of a lock. They were gone.

His own captor released him, and McCoy turned quickly. Aulus' uncle was a shorter man, perhaps an inch or two under Kirk's height. He had an open face and overall average look for a Hephasten. McCoy thought this man could easily blend into a crowd. Not, however, a Senate crowd. The server wore a light brown shirt and trousers, with a dark orange apron. He looked like the typical kitchen hand around here. Perhaps that made it easier for him to slip away undetected.

"I apologize for the rough treatment." He began. "It was the only way I knew to stop you."

McCoy sighed. "That's all right. What's going on here? Where'd they take Spock and Scotty?" His voice didn't rise above a whisper, but his tone conveyed a desperate frustration.

"I do not know, exactly." The server continued. "I only know that there is this plot within the Senate. You must send warning to your people." He began backing further into the doorway, beckoning for McCoy to follow.

"Ok. I'm not buying this." McCoy hissed as they traversed the dark room. "Who exactly are you, that you know about Senatorial plots an' all this cloak 'n dagger nonsense?" They came out in another dimly lit room. A few thick gray coats hung on the walls, along with thick scarves for facial protection against the elements. The server grabbed one of these and tossed it to McCoy.

"I am Horatius Valerius. It is my duty to protect you and your crewmen. Now, hurry! There is a storm. You will need this coat, and one of these." He handed McCoy a scarf.

"Horatius, huh?" McCoy cracked a smile as he struggled into the heavy coat. "All right. I can trust a good-honest name like that. What did you mean, 'your duty'?"

"It is my duty to oppose the Senate. They are corrupt, and serve an unjust Queen."

"Queen? I thought Hephaste I had Republics, not monarchies!"

Horatius chuckled dryly. "Is that what you were told? Well, Doctor, you should not believe anything you hear in Flagratus unless you can verify it yourself." He threw open another door. A violent gust of wind hurled sand and small debris into the little room.

"If that's true, then how can I trust anything _you_ say?" McCoy shouted over the wind.

"Because!" Horatius continued, "I saved your life! Now, GO!" He hustled McCoy out the door and into the storm. The sand hit like a rushing wall. McCoy stumbled, trying to get his bearings. He brought up a hand to cover his eyes. He squinted, blocking out most of the swirling sand. McCoy tried to remember the way back to the officers' lodgings. Uhura would be there, and M'Benga, Palmer, DeSalle! He braced himself against the wind and started moving forward. The sky was black and angry. A flash of yellow lightning lit up the city. McCoy recognized some alleyways from before. The lightning became more frequent. He ran.

The wind was roaring all around him, faster than before. It whipped the ends of his coat and pulled on his scarf. Still, McCoy hurried. He rounded another corner and saw a light up ahead. The awning of the hotel was visible in the soft glow. The rest of the building was obscured by the sand. His heart leapt, but the adrenaline high was wearing off. Those last few steps to the building were increasingly difficult. Finally, he reached the door. McCoy pounded as hard as he could to be heard over the storm. The door swung open more quickly than he could have hoped. A middle-aged Hephasten woman ushered him inside.

"Oh, Doctor! What a relief! I had thought you stranded at the Senate banquet, or else lost in the storm! I am Naenia Summanus, owner of this hotel." McCoy shrugged off his coat and loosened his scarf. He turned away and shook some sand from his hair.

"Well, I'm sure glad I made it back! Ma'am, I have to speak with the rest of my crew. Can you tell me which room-…" McCoy stopped. Something wasn't right. _Wait, Summanus?_

"How did you know I was a doctor? You hadn't seen my uniform, and we've never met before."

The statement was barely out before thin hands wrapped around his face. Everything went black.

 


	8. Chapter 8

Scotty was growing more irritated by the minute. He had come to himself with a jolt, and found he was slung over that suspicious bodyguard's shoulder. The Chief Engineer quickly remedied that.

Now, he found himself being marched down a long corridor with a busted lip, sore ribcage, and a black eye. Not that he hadn't given as good as he'd got. Scotty smirked as he listened to the sound of Celcus Tacitus' uneven footsteps. There's nothing quite like a good old kick to the shins to even things out.

Scotty was still outnumbered two-to-one. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the limp body of Spock thrown over the other guard's shoulder. He thought back to the fight.

_They had all been walking down the hallway. Everything was fine until Spock collapsed. As Scotty had rushed to the Vulcan's side, he saw movement and barely had time to dodge Tacitus' strike. The Security Head and his assistant began to close in. Scotty raised his fists for a fight, but something in his stance must've changed Tacitus' mind. He waved his subordinate away. Scotty squared off with the giant Hephasten. Tacitus lunged. Ducking, Scotty managed to dodge the high attack and make a counter of his own. Tacitus seemed prepared for this. He brought his elbows down on the Chief Engineer's back. Scotty stumbled to the side and slipped on his fallen sheet. After that…_

Scotty was wrenched from his reverie by the sound of raised voices at the end of the hall. There was a wooden door left slightly ajar. As the pounding in his head began to fade, Scotty was able to make more sense of the heated conversation.

" _What have you done to them?"_ One voice shouted.

"That should not be one of your concerns. A clever man would have long since fit the pieces."

"Stop talking in riddles! I want a clear, honest answer. So help me, if you've hurt a single member of my crew-"

"Captain, your speech is foolishness, and you should know it. What threats can you make against me?"

Scotty's pulse quickened. _The Captain is in there!_ He realized. _We're definitely in a tight spot now…_ Tacitus was leading the little group towards the door, so the debate became clearer as they moved.

"Do you honestly believe that you can threaten, maim, or imprison a Federation crew, the crew of their _Flagship_ mind you, with _impunity?_ " There was a danger in the Captain's tone that the other man was either unaware of, or ignoring.

"Without a doubt, Captain. Without a doubt. The High Monarch and all of the Councils have been preparing for this day, for this exact sequence of events, for over twenty years."

By this time, Scotty was just outside the door. Tacitus pushed him inside unceremoniously. Scotty stumbled in to find a long, low chamber dimly lit by some interesting fixtures. Pale orange light shone at a dim constancy from slits near the room's ceiling. This was reflected off of various shimmering tapestries draped on the walls. They depicted violent and sometimes volcanic scenes of destruction on all sides. Scotty slid to a stop on the sleek stone floor. It was constructed with green slabs of rock that were close to the polished consistency of marble. Most of the floor was covered in thick carpets unlike any that Scotty had ever seen. The woven masterpieces were made from a soft, yet reedy material and traced over in an iridescent red paint. At one end of the room, two Senatorial Guards flanked a plain wooden chair. Captain Kirk was its occupant. Across from his Captain, Scotty saw the bold High Senator- Gallus Bellona- standing in front of an ornate throne, caught mid-soliloquy.

"Ah," remarked Councilor Bellona at the interruption, "How kind of your crew to return."

"Scotty!" Kirk leapt up from his chair, but was pushed back down by the Senatorial Guards. His eyes flicked from the Chief Engineer to the doorway. Scotty glanced over his shoulder. Tacitus' minion was closing the door and locking it behind them. He finished his task and turned to face the room once again. The lolling head of Spock was revealed.

"Spock!" Kirk managed to bolt out of the guards' reach before they could lay hands on him. There was a fury in his eyes. Scotty understood the Captain's anger and reckless behavior, but he also understood the power behind numbers. Kirk made it halfway across the room. The instant the Captain had moved, Tacitus went on the attack. Meeting Kirk halfway, the Hephasten warrior, as Scotty was beginning to think of him, threw an astonishing punch. The Captain was floored. The less successful guards came quickly to collect their prisoner.

Gallus Bellona laughed. "My, what a valiant and futile effort, Captain. Reports of your impetuousness are not exaggerated!" Scotty watched, helpless, as his Captain was dragged back to Bellona. The Councilor made a dismissive gesture and Kirk was replaced into the chair. Another signal brought Scotty's little group towards the throne. Bellona did not sit, but stood and watched as his new prisoners were brought forward. He smirked at Scotty's battered appearance and Spock's total unresponsiveness.

Scotty was growing more uneasy by the second. He had realized a while ago that Spock must've sipped the water before McCoy's warning. What he could not figure out was the Doctor's current location. _Has he escaped? Where could he have gone to? Didn't that messenger say something about a storm? McCoy could be out there right now looking for help!_ It seemed that this possibility had occurred to Councilor Bellona as well.

"Optio Tacitus, report. Where is the other Starfleet Officer, the physician?"

Tacitus stepped forward and bowed to Bellona. "General. He was not with the others. Word has been sent to Summanus. She will have dispatched him by now." Cold claws of fear gripped Scotty's heart. He didn't know who this Summanus person was, but he didn't like the way Tacitus had said "dispatched". Another thought occurred to him and he, being the only coherent officer present, voiced it.

"'General'? I thought y'said y'were a High Senator or a Councilman or th' like."

General Bellona smirked again. "Well well. You might be as sharp as we have heard. Not terribly observant, but quick. If you had paid any attention in the city, you might have learned that the only things that you can trust in Flagratus are the things that you yourself can prove. I am First General Gallus Bellona of the Queen's United Armies. It is a pleasure to see a deception prove so effective." General Bellona paced back and forth before the empty throne. Scotty was beginning to understand. The strange decorations on Bellona's tunic, the skittishness of the other 'Councilors', and Blandus Varius' outright anxiousness; it all made sense. Scotty also came to the conclusion that if his Captain was still recovering, Spock was unconscious, and Doctor McCoy was… incapacitated, then he was the sole Commanding Officer available to try and remedy the situation. _Or at the very least,_ he thought, _don' make it any worse!_

"So, General, are y' declarin' war on th' Federation? I dinnae reckon that's a very wise decision."

If Bellona was surprised by Scotty's question, then he did a very good job of covering it. The General stood still and studied Scotty from his position by the throne.

"I suppose a simple engineer would not know well the art of waging war, from a tactical standpoint, you understand. Though, I have heard reports that you are no simple Engineer. Your decorations provide evidence to that end."

"Aye. I'm the Chief Engineer of the Federation's flagship. I'd nae call that a position for a 'simple engineer'." Scotty's face was starting to color at Bellona's remark, but he remembered his circumstances. The ball was in Bellona's court. He could stand to play this out.

"True, true. My informants have provided evidence to that effect. Your men in red hold you and your Captain in the highest regard. As far as my reports go, departmental loyalty is strong throughout your ship. The crewmen in blue are divided, however, between your Medical and Science Officers. How curious your system is, that these departments are not better distinguished. Fortunately for us, it was easy to distinguish the members of your Command Staff. I sincerely hope they enjoy their isolated quarters."

Scotty held his tongue. He had seen how rash action had worked with the Captain. As much as he wanted to demand answers and resort to violence with this cocky general, Commander Scott tried a more diplomatic approach.

"I see. And what about the _Enterprise_? There's nothin' stoppin' her from launchin' a full-scale attack on the city."

"With her entire crew on the surface? That's hardly a clever threat."

"Ah, we never said anythin' about the _entire_ crew bein' sent down, now did we?"

General Bellona's eye twitched. Point: Scotty.

"I see. This development will have to be resolved. Ah! Your Captain awakes. He will have to be dealt with as well, for this deception."

"There was never a 'deception'!" Scotty shouted, but was ignored as General Bellona turned his attention to Captain Kirk. The Captain was blinking hard and trying to clear his head. He spotted Scott quickly, even in the dim lighting.

"Scotty? What happened? Feels like I got hit by a shuttle…" Bellona seized the opportunity and Captain Kirk by his collar.

"What is the meaning of your deception? Admittedly, it was shrewd…" Bellona dropped Kirk back into the chair. "Indeed… it was. I must applaud you for your foresight. Why trust anyone with the whole force… yes…"

Kirk was recovering quickly. "What deception, Bellona? I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Denying the facts will not help you, Captain. You hid your numbers from us. This, we did not plan for."

"Hid our numbers?" Kirk was genuinely confused. "We didn't hide anything. _You_ never asked."

Bellona's face went slack with shock. _Somethin's very wrong_ , thought Scotty. A voice shook the General out of his trance.

"How unfortunate, General. This will prove a setback, I am sure of it." Without looking up, Bellona turned and threw himself prostrate onto the floor. The other guards and Tacitus bowed not quite so deeply. Scotty turned and stared. A tall, stately woman had entered the room unheard by all. He assumed there must be a door hidden behind one of the tapestries near the throne, because she certainly had not come from the only other entrance. The Hephasten woman walked with both grace and power. It was no large feat for Scotty to deduce she was the mysterious queen. She was dressed similarly to Bellona, wearing a green robe with gold embroidery. Instead of a blood-red sash, however, the queen wore an entire blood-red tunic of what Scotty supposed was the Hephasten equivalent of leather armor.

"Please, forgive me, Your Excellence. I have made a grievous error."

The queen seated herself, still towering over Bellona. "It is wise of you to not make excuses, General. It is very fortuitous that I have already anticipated this outcome. The Velites have already been deployed." She turned to examine the Captain. Maintaining a look of total disdain, the queen addressed Scotty.

"I am Laelia Avilius, High Queen of the Hephats, ruler of Flagratus, and Head the Hephat Empire. You are the Great Chief Engineer."

It wasn't a question.

"Aye, that I am."

"You bear the gauntlet of a warrior." Scotty tried not to gulp. He also ignored the Captain's pointed look. _So, the rumor succeeded on to the Hephastens… McCoy might be proud to know, but this makes things a wee bit difficult._

"Are y'well versed in Starfleet's commendation system?" It was a well put evasion. He didn't tell a bald-faced lie in front of the Captain, nor did he dissuade the Hephasten Queen of her assumptions.

"There has not been a Federation ship to visit here for some years. But, that is of no consequence when a vast spy network is making all the necessary research."

Captain Kirk could keep quiet no longer. "A spy network? We've come here on a mission of peace, and you've engaged in espionage? And who or what are these Velites that you've deployed? I demand to know has been done- _what is being done_ \- to my crew!" His eyes flicked to the floor where Spock was slumped, but returned to bore hard into the cold glare of the queen.

"How rude it is to interrupt." Queen Avilius said dispassionately. "You will be silent or you will be silenced. However, those are valid inquiries. If you do not mind…" She posed the question to Scotty. Shocked beyond words, he simply shook his head. _There is no protocol for this. There's no protocol, no how-to for monarchy-approved insubordination!_

"It is of the most simplicity, Captain." She continued in the same eerie tone. "As not all humans are psi-null, so too is the case with the Hephats." Kirk remembered Spock's cultural briefing and was not thrown.

"And what relevance does this have to your unprovoked attacks?"

Queen Avilius leveled a cool gaze at the Captain. "The spy network conducts its business by gathering information from unguarded thoughts. They do not make any intrusion, and therefore breach no rules of conduct. The Quaestionarius are composed of the telepaths at our disposal. They inquire on certain subjects and glean the true answer that springs into the individual's broadcasted thoughts. The same technique was employed on the crew of the _Doyle_. To answer your previous inquiries, your crew is being sorted and arranged in the manner that is most convenient for our plans. They are all contained in the bunker systems, besides the command staff you so kindly isolated at the house of Summanus."

"Who's this Summanus, and what has he done with my crew? I heard your man Tacitus say that he's harmed my Chief Medical Officer."

Both Starfleet men were shocked when General Bellona snorted. Even the Hephasten Queen found this statement amusing- responding only with a smug look.

"Our information was accurate, My Queen." Bellona said from the floor. "They truly are as predictable as you have suspected."

"What? Explain yourself! What's happened to McCoy?" Kirk almost shouted from his seat.

The queen fielded this question. "We have done extensive research on your ways and culture, Captain Kirk. We know your race and their allies better than you yourselves might. Articles and information stolen from the _Doyle's_ databases were most revealing. Every work, every record is steeped in the influence of your patriarchal society. We have used this to our advantage. True, for humans, it is not an inefficient lifestyle, but it is one you have grown accustomed to, one you simply _assume._ Naturally, as a product of this lifestyle, there are chinks in your armor. Your crew has been led into our trap by their blind trust in the archetype of the loving mother or grandmother. All of your crewmen have been captured by women of middle or advanced age. They have trained for many years to accommodate every aspect of this archetype. Each shall be awarded beautifully for their success. And your Medical Officer has been ensnared in just such a trap. _Naenia_ Summanus is one of our best agents."

Scotty and his Captain both stared at Queen Avilius. They were startled speechless by the complete success of the ambush. Finally, Scotty found his voice.

"So… what y're sayin' is, y've been waitin' all this time for a disaster big enough to lure in a Federation ship?"

Captain Kirk was shocked by the question out of left field, but Queen Avilius seemed impressed. "That is an astute observation, Chief Engineer. No, we have instigated the earthquake. The seismic activity was begun when we were assured of the flagship's assignment to respond. Indeed, the timing had to be perfect, or a ship of lower stature could have been dispatched."

"Hold on just a wee bit." Scotty cut in. "Are y'sayin' y'caused these earthquakes?" Before she could answer, everything clicked and Scotty's eyes snapped wide open. "Twenty years! Th' geological report claims that Hephaste I has a history of volcanic activity, but no earthquakes or any seismic events until aboot twenty years ago! Cap'n, d'y'see th' significance?" He was becoming less intelligible as he went on, but Kirk was hanging onto every word. The Hephastens had been planning this ambush for _twenty years_ and were ruthless enough to turn their terrible device on their own people!

"Tha' also means…" Scotty continued. His face clouded over suddenly. Kirk could almost see the gears turning in his Chief Engineer's mind. Without warning, Scotty snapped.

"Hou dis it work?" He growled.

Queen Avilius' eyes sparkled. "I see you have much of it figured out. Very well. I shall give you the last of the information." The queen crossed her legs and lounged back on her throne. She finally waved General Bellona off, allowing him to rise once more from the floor. He took up a position to the left of the throne, grinning evilly at the Starfleet men.

"The machine has been in production since before the time of my direct predecessor, King Cardia the Swift Conqueror. The inner workings of the device are a closely guarded secret, but I will give you an accurate description of its capabilities. The machine is roughly the size of one of your shuttlecraft and utilizes an experimental type of electromagnetic wave to disrupt matter either at close range and great impact, or over long distances with a more… concentrated objective."

By the end of the queen's speech, Scotty was livid. Kirk watched as both of his fists clenched, knuckles white. Queen Avilius' meaning was lost on the Captain. He honestly had no idea what could make his usually easygoing engineer so enraged.

" _Hou dare ye!"_ Was Scotty's response. He lunged, but Optio Tacitus pinned him firmly in an instant. Scotty did not advance, but Kirk was stunned. Something in Scotty's tone… It was unlike any earlier outburst, even compared to that incident with the Klingon crew's unfortunate descriptions of the _Enterprise._

"It is no longer of consequence." The queen replied, unfazed. "However, the more immediate concern, General, is how we are to finish our final tests." She turned an expectant gaze on Bellona.

"We may send these two. After all, the Quaestionarius did not achieve complete consistency in their surveys. The Walk of the Condemned would put any final questions to rest."

Kirk's attention moved quickly to the conversation. "Walk of the Condemned? Don't be too offended if we refuse." It wasn't terribly clever, but Kirk was so thrown by Scotty's outburst, that he could hardly spare the extra synapses to fire on all cylinders.

"It should be regarded as an honor, Captain Kirk." General Bellona responded. "Based on the Quaestionarius' reports, we are sending the two cleverest of your men into the Great Forge, the largest volcano on our planet. You and your Warrior Engineer will traverse the Walk of the Condemned- a system of natural tunnels that mean certain death to all but the strongest or most brilliant of warriors. By this, we will know the strengths and failings of your kind to a greater extent."

"Ach! Then ye've condemned me t'death!" Scotty suddenly called from the center of the room. He was still trapped by Tacitus, but managed a bitter sneer towards the Queen and the General.

"Explain." Queen Avilius said with some interest.

"Aye, Ah'd love to!" Scott bellowed. "If y're sendin' me inta th' volcano wi' just my Captain… Well, Ah'd say y're spies got some bad Intel aboot who th' cleverest ones on the ship were."

Kirk started, and then scowled. He ignored Bellona's smug look and instead focused on Scotty. _First, angry outbursts, now insults? I've never known Scotty to act anything like this, even in the face of certain death!_

"Commander Scott, what is the meaning of this?"

Scotty turned to the Captain with a look of contempt. "Well, forgive me, Captain, if Ah tell 'em the truth by sayin' y're nae much cleverer than a green ensign when it comes t'anythin' other than destroyin' mah ship!"

"Your ship?" Kirk couldn't help the flare of anger that rose up as the speech moved closer to mutiny.

"Aye, tha' it is! More so than it is yers, tha' Ah can say wi' certainty."

Kirk rose to his feet, clenching his fists. This was unacceptable, especially now, when they were all but being sentenced to death. Kirk didn't notice that Queen Avilius had waved off the restraining guards. They let him loose.

"In fact, Ah'd rather take Mr. Spock- _as is_ \- on th' bloody Walk than go with ye, _Captain._ He was certainly more reliable during th' incident with th' Romulan Commander! Ah was pure surprised tha' ye put off cripplin' the ship as long as ye did!"

Suddenly the red cloud cleared and Kirk understood everything. Well, not everything, but he had finally figured out his Engineer's ploy. _Scotty_ wants _to take Spock into the volcano, not me. But why? He's figured out something about Avilius' plan, I'd bet, but he can't tell me anything without tipping them off. Best just play this out._

"Why you mutinous, cowardly, insubordinate little-!" Kirk launched into a tirade but was cut off by Queen Avilius.

"Truly, Chief Engineer, you would rather take the Science Officer? The Quaestionarius relayed reports of the Vulcan's intelligence, but the stronger vote of confidence went to the Captain's wit."

Scotty scoffed. "Of _course_ it would. Th' flagship's got to be run on absolute loyalty. It's engrained in 'em, after all th' close shaves an' tight spots tha' _Ah_ worked us outta! Th' Captain took credit for th' hard work done by me an' Mr. Spock!" He took another look at Spock, who still lay motionless on the floor. "But, if Ah'm gonna do th' journey, Ah would prefer a _conscious_ companion. It'd be marginally better than takin' th' Captain, Ah suppose."

Kirk found an appropriate opening and lunged, but was held back by the guards this time. _Good. I didn't want to get in a fist-fight with Scotty. If he's definitely going to make the Walk, then he'll need all of his strength._

Queen Avilius nodded. "Very well. We shall restore the Science Officer to his full strength. General, send for the antidote and a progress report from the Velites. Perhaps it would be more beneficial to learn the limits of Vulcans as well." She turned back to Scotty. "It was not a fatal concoction. If you had all consumed it as planned, then you would have been rendered unconscious long enough for us to move you to a secondary detainment center." Seconds later, a servant hurried into the room with a tray and a vial. Tacitus released Scotty, took the vial, and administered the antidote to Spock.

"It will take some time to reach full effectiveness. In the meantime, you will both be transported to the center of the Forge by way of the Warrior's tunnel." There was a predatory look in her eyes. She addressed Bellona without removing her gaze from the Captain. "General, have Captain Kirk taken to Summanus. I believe he will wish to be reunited with his missing Medical Officer."

The cold way in which she delivered her commands made Scotty's breath hitch, but he covered the involuntary action with a gruff chuckle. "This Walk seems like a challenge worthy of a true warrior." He flexed his gloved hand for emphasis, doing whatever bizarre thing popped into his mind in hopes that he could continue fooling the Hephasten Queen and buy them some time. "Ah'd say Ah'm eager to begin."

Queen Avilius actually managed a small smile. Her eyes twinkled with sinister purpose.

"Excellent, Chief Engineer. Perhaps, if you survive, you could prove yourself in more _useful_ ways."

Scotty fought his growing disgust and managed his best 'evil grin'.

"Ah look forward to it."

* * *

 

Christine Chapel was very _very_ glad she had changed into her dress uniform like everyone else. On the off chance that a Hephasten diplomatic group wanted a tour of the _Enterprise_ , the remaining crew had been advised to change into the same uniforms as everyone else. Chapel had been especially glad for this measure when she received a distress call from the transporter room. Mr. Kyle's request for aid had been cut off. Nurse Chapel didn't know what kind of aid he required, so she had brought a medkit and a phaser just in case.

It was a good thing, too, because she had to repel boarders.

What she only assumed must be Hephasten infantrymen were pouring out of the transporter room five at a time, almost faster than she and the few other first-responders could handle. During one of the lags, Chapel saw a figure clad not in green and orange but _Command Yellow_ stumble out of the sliding doors.

"Hold your fire!" She called from behind the impromptu base of operations they had set up behind the blind corner. Risking quite a lot, Chapel hurried over to the crewman who was doubled over just outside the door. She reached his side quickly and helped the man to his feet. Chapel was rather surprised to find herself half-carrying the _Enterprise's_ navigator down the corridor.

"Chekov?" She gasped once they were safe again behind the wall. The Ensign was bleeding out of several cuts and lacerations on his face and arms. It looked like someone had run him through an old-fashioned paper shredder. "Chekov, Ensign, look at me." Chapel's training kicked in and she began checking him for more serious injuries while she snapped at one of the medical team for a tricorder. Instrument in hand, Chapel was able to confirm her preliminary diagnosis- concussion, minor lacerations ranging up to shallow cuts, no broken limbs- and make sure that there were no internal injuries. Once she was sure the ensign was out of danger, Chapel tried shaking his shoulders gently. She needed him responsive and fast. Chekov had been the only crewmember to beam back up or return to the ship at all since the beginning of the mission. Sure, the _Enterprise_ had received regular reports all day with the corresponding radio silence towards night time. Chapel had heard from somebody that there was a pretty big sandstorm going on down on the planet's surface, but it was apparently just weak enough to allow transports and communications clearly. The appearance of armed Hephastens in the transporter room shattered the illusion of normalcy. Christine didn't know what was happening down on Hepheste I's surface, but Chekov did. She need answers. Soon.

"Come on, Ensign. _Pavel Andrevich Chekov! We're receiving diplomats from the Kremlin!_ " Chapel honestly didn't know what would rouse the little Russian ensign, but she figured that was the best she had, and it had better work. _Thank my lucky stars, he's coming around._ Chekov stirred. He started shaking his head, trying to clear his thoughts. Chapel dug around in her medkit for a useful hypo or _something_ that would help her out. Chekov didn't have any internal injuries, but he hadn't had a tox-screen done yet. Chapel didn't feel safe injecting him with anything before knowing what, if anything, Chekov had been given on the planet. _Who knows?_ She considered. _He may have been drugged in order to get him to cooperate, or sedated enough to be transported without a fuss. Giving him something, even a stimulant, could be disastrous without full knowledge of his condition. Oh well. I'll get answers soon enough._

Chekov blinked rapidly. "Nurse Chapel?" He began uncertainly.

"Yep. You're not experiencing any memory loss. Good. How are you feeling? Can you tell me what's going on down there? "

Chekov reached up and rubbed the back of his head. "I will try, Nurse. Ze crews went down and ewerything was going just fine until we were attacked! Ze Hephasten soldiers herded eweryone into ze bunker system and separated ze higher officers from ze ensigns. I have not seen ze Keptin, Meester Spock, or Doctor McCoy since we were captured."

Chapel took all this in quickly and glanced around the corner. The flow of Hephasten soldiers seemed to have stopped, if only briefly. She turned back to Chekov.

"Alright. Tell me what happened to you, and anything you can about what they're planning. Why are the Hephastens attacking us? I thought they requested aid!"

"It is like you say, zhey requested ze aid and zhen turned on us once night fell. Ze leaders needed someone to open a channel to ze _Enterprise_ without arousing suspicion. Zhey chose me and threatened to kill ze ranking officers one by one until I complied." Chekov looked a little ashamed as he told his tale. Chapel listened intently, all the while checking both the hallway and the ensign for signs of change. Chekov continued. "Needless to say, I did. Once zhey established a connection with Meester Kyle in ze transporter room, zhey hacked in with the ground systems and began transporting troops onboard. Zhey can only transport in groups of five, and zhen only twenty before ze system has too cool down. Wery inefficient, if you ask me. When ze last group was about to beam, I pushed one of zhem out of the way and took his spot during the beam-up. So, here I am."

As Chekov began wrapping up his story, Christine began wrapping up Chekov. She had a few bandages on hand since the dermal regenerators were all back in Sickbay. She figured it would be better to get these cuts cleaned and bandaged before she had to move Chekov anywhere or start fighting off Hephasten ground troops again. It was a quick task and she finished in just a few moments.

"We need a plan. We can't just let the Hephasten troops storm the _Enterprise,_ even if they do have most of the crew. There's got to be something." Chapel helped Chekov to his feet. The rest of the defending crew had taken the opportunity to alert the remaining Security officers. Red shirts were starting to pour in from the other decks, reorganizing and replacing the medical team. Compliments were given and accepted on the first responders' efficient defense of the hallway. Not a single Hephasten soldier had reached the turbolift un-stunned. While the calm still lasted, Chapel remembered Lieutenant Kyle's distress call.

"Morris, Page, with me! We've got casualties in the transporter room! _Go!_ " The three nurses rushed through the sliding doors. What they saw left them quite stunned. Five Hephasten soldiers lay unconscious on the ground surrounding the transporter pad. A sixth was slumped over by the control station. Face-down on the floor next to him, lay Lieutenant Kyle. Chapel and her nurses were by his side in an instant. Morris turned the lieutenant over while Page checked vitals and Chapel readied hypos.

"He's alive!" Page declared quickly. Morris confirmed with a manual pulse reading and the noted rise-and-fall of Kyle's chest.

"Injuries?" Chapel asked while she loaded a stimulant.

"He's got a severe concussion, bruised ribs, a fractured wrist, and tracheal damage. Looks like he put up quite a fight before they got him." Page spouted off the injuries and turned a deductive eye to the circumstances. "Looks like two of 'em rushed him behind the console. One of 'em ended up on the wrong end of Kyle's phaser, while the other pressed his advantage." Page recreated the scene with rapid-fire analysis. "Came up quick and pushed him into the wall with one of those odd looking phaser rifles." Page indicated one of the fallen weapons. It had an extra long barrel with a lumpy power cell crowded up on the trigger end. "It'd be pretty easy to pin him, what with the long barrel. My guess is, Kyle tried a block as the rifle came down hard and, voila, fractured wrist. Rib damage likely resulted from initial attacks- the soldier punched or kicked or elbowed him or something' to get him to back off, but Kyle kept going. Next, the guy slams him up against the wall, still rifle-to-neck, hard enough to both knock him out and give him the windpipe injuries."

Page finished the conclusion with a nod of approval from Chapel. The whole thing took less than a minute. Morris and Chapel got on either side of the downed lieutenant and lifted him. Kyle was no featherweight, but between the two of them, they managed to get him out of the room. As the door was sliding shut, Christine thought she heard the familiar whir of a beam-up.

"They're coming! _RUN!"_ Chapel, Morris and Page picked up the pace. "Go! Go! Go!" They rounded the corner. Security men were poised and ready to defend their ship. "Chekov! With me!" Chapel barked at the lounging ensign. To his credit, the navigator leapt up and once and raced down the hall after the last of the first-responders.

"Where are we going, Nurse Chapel?" Chekov asked.

The doors to the turbolift closed on the five of them. Chapel and Morris were breathing hard.

"Sickbay." Chapel panted. "And after that, the bridge. We've got a war to stop."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I'm gonna come clean with y'all. I read the Vulcan Academy Murders AFTER writing this whole thing... I literally did not know about Vulcan's Forge until this book and I was like... Shoot. I just wrote the Forge into here 'cause Hephaestus, right, not thinking that somebody might've made the same connection but with Vulcan. Just, like, please roll with it. I'm pretty embarrassed. I mean sure I can research sandfires but I gloss over on the whole 'there is an identically-named landform on the planet you're drawing parallels with'. So, I ask, since Spock is out for this whole conversation, cut me a little slack. I'm new to the whole 'do your homework but for real' thing. Thank you.


	9. Chapter 9

The Warrior's Tunnel turned out to be a long, dark corridor that stretched from the capital city to the foot of the Great Forge. They were far underground, Scotty was sure, but at their current speed, he couldn't tell how far along they'd traveled. Immediately after Queen Avilius' order, the Captain had been dragged away by an armed unit. To Scotty, it seemed excessive. The Quaestionarius must have somehow learned about the _Enterprise's_ history with miraculous escapes. It seemed as if they were taking no chances on another one.

He was growing more uncomfortable as the journey went. Too late, he was putting together pieces of the puzzle and realizing several deductive lapses that could have saved them a deal of trouble. Scotty was kicking himself for not catching on to several things: one being the Flagratian citizens' eerily cooperative behavior. This, coupled with their selective silence should've let him know that something was off in the community. No rescue mission went this smoothly, regardless of the society they were working with. Scotty was expecting chaos. He was too relieved at not finding any to realize that this was an issue in itself.

Another unfortunate miss was the clue about Summanus and possibly the Quaestionarius as a whole. Optio Tacitus referred to Summanus as 'she' the minute they walked into the throne room. _In hindsight, tha' did get us a full explanation int' the spy network. Although, the crew of Starfleet's flagship might've tried a bit harder t' save face in front of the monarchy. There's another surprise, too!_ He was feeling worse by the minute about his revelations. Really, the clues had been there the whole time. He felt like a green ensign buying turbolift passes from more seasoned officers. They had all been duped and it could have been prevented.

Scotty tried to show no sign of his discomfort. He was hurtling down a pitch-black tunnel on some sort of anti-grav golf cart. Optio Tacitus- "Optio", Scotty figured, meant some form of lieutenant- was driving the little cart and was close enough to watch Scotty's every move. The engineer did his best to look bored. On the inside, he was itching to punch Tacitus in the face and try and take control of the cart. He would just about try it too, if it weren't for the other three carts in the convoy all packed with Hephasten soldiers. _This is a very serious bit of business then. Some sort of sacred ceremonial something? Mr. Spock would be able to figure it out._

He turned his attention to the back of the cart. Spock was still unconscious. It had only been five minutes. Scotty didn't know what he had been expecting.

And, frankly, he didn't understand why this was called the 'Warrior's Tunnel' to begin with. It was almost totally dark, with only those strange orange slits for lighting. It was almost like one of the underwater highways back on Earth. For a moment, Scotty was taken back to a day in his childhood when he and his Maw had taken the Great Channel Thalassway to visit a cousin in Belgium. A hiss from behind him reminded Scotty that this was a far less pleasant journey.

Dropping his dismissive-warrior act, he whirled around in his seat. Spock was still lying almost motionless in the back of the cart, but something in the Vulcan's countenance had changed. Now, Scotty didn't claim to know Mr. Spock as well as the Captain or Doctor McCoy, but he knew there was trouble brewing. For one thing, no matter what the mission or the injury, he had never known Spock to show outward signs of discomfort unless there was a life-threatening issue. _He's either still groggy,_ thought Scott, _or in a great deal of pain._

Spock's eyebrows twitched. Scotty noticed the sudden change in his breathing pattern. From sleep to consciousness, the respiration rate shifted dramatically. Where there had once been only the shallowest of rises, Spock was now practically gulping air. Not that Vulcans performed such an emotional action. No, Spock was… experiencing highly elevated rates of oxygen exchange. Simple enough.

Scotty contemplated his own hand. He might reach out and give Spock a shake to help get him alert. He might also refrain from such an action at all costs, lest he risk upsetting some Vulcan protocol that Captain Kirk or Doctor McCoy would be more familiar with. To be perfectly honest with himself, Scott was out of his depth. That was the primary reason he had bluffed his way into securing Spock as a traveling buddy. Spock knew volcanoes. Spock knew hot-as-Vulcan environments. Spock had gone over the cultural reports instead of organizing a sewing circle with Doctor McCoy. _Whether he's at full power or not,_ Scott decided, _He's the only one of us who really knows how we can make it out of this tunnel alive._ He resolved then to be on full alert for the rest of the ride. It went against much of what he instinctually wanted to do, but Scotty turned back around in his seat and took in every detail. He counted the troops and counted again for accuracy. He observed the rock of the tunnel, tried to remember the direction of each turn they had made, and even made estimates about the capabilities of the carts. When Spock awoke, he would have every possible piece of information to work with.

The tunnel became completely black. At this moment, something changed. Scotty felt a new sensation. Separate from the flat heat that had permeated the entire tunnel was a new heat. This radiated from somewhere up ahead, and along with it came the faintest glimmer of red light in the distance.

The carts sped up. Scotty felt the surge forward just before hearing the other carts' engines make the same transition. The high whine filled the tunnel and reverberated off the low ceiling. Somewhere behind him, Spock stirred. Against his every impulse, Scotty ignored the noise and focused on the tunnel ahead.

As the light grew brighter, several things became clear: One, they were headed into an actual volcano. No confusion there. Two, the entrance to said volcano was guarded only by a gigantic metal door with a thin window at the top. The long, skinny window was the source of the strange light. Scotty was wondering why molten metal would produce such a red glow as opposed to yellow or light orange when it hit him: a high concentration of iron at a certain temperature would glow red and glow red in a big way. This also added to his mental picture of the Hephastens' technical capabilities. If there were such quantities of iron, enough to illuminate a tunnel and overpower the incandescence of other molten minerals, then the existence of magnetic oddities in the planet's crust was highly probable. In fact, this very volcano could have inspired the development of Queen Avilius' 'experimental electromagnetic waves' that were harnessed in that infernal device. Though Scotty still had a bone to pick and a strong desire to tear the earthquake machine apart with his bare hands, he was still impressed with the technical know-how that made the thing operate in the first place.

They had arrived at the door. A panel to his left told Scotty how it would open, and a man walking towards it with ceremonious purpose told him who would do the opening. Apparently, this execution involved much more pomp and circumstance than an ordinary off-with-the-heads might. At least twenty Senatorial guards- or Royal guards, as he should probably think of them- joined them on the journey. They were now circling up in the shadows, trapping the Starfleet men between their ranks and the door.

Spock took this opportunity to sit up. Hesitating and then giving in to emotional judgment, Scotty leapt out of his seat and assisted Spock with establishing bearings.

"It's Mister Scott, Mister Spock." He said as he came to the Vulcan's side. "We're just outside of a volcano." In a lower tone he added, "They've got the Captain and Doctor McCoy. We'll have t' play our cards right if we're lookin' t'get outta this alive."

Spock, already coherent and responsive, nodded. "Indeed, Mister Scott. I could ascertain that we were in close proximity to an active volcano, but the rest was useful information." Scotty had noticed the twitching eyebrow. Spock, despite outward appearances, had not totally recovered. As the Vulcan tried to stand, Scotty was discreetly on hand to assist if assistance was needed.

The cart shifted as two bodies exited. Optio Tacitus was on his way back. Scotty shifted his position. He wasn't about to let Tacitus get any cheap shots on Spock while the Vulcan was still recovering. But, the warrior was still advancing. Scotty drew himself up to his full height and crossed his arms over his chest. Tacitus would either have to stop and chat or barrel right over him. Lucky for Scotty, he did neither. The warrior altered course mid-way to the Starfleet last-stand. Apparently, he was headed to a conference that had formed in the ranks of the Hephasten soldiers. Scotty tired to catch some of their conversation, but he couldn't quite make out anything beyond a low murmur.

"Mister Scott, do you have any information on something or someone called a 'Velite'?"

Scotty's head whipped around. "You can hear them, Mister Spock?"

"Indeed. They are discussing the role of this Velite in both and invasion and a ceremonial responsibility. Fascinating. It seems that this is the very ritual the cultural study spoke of when it mentioned 'meteorological patterns in the rituals of the ancient Hephasten military custom'. Apparently, the weather conditions are those ideal for both this 'ceremony' and a separate invasion of-.." Spock trailed off, listening. A shadow had crossed over his features. Scotty realized that he hadn't filled Spock in very much at all about their circumstances. But, an invasion? This was too interesting for Scotty to put off asking about.

"What invasion, Mister Spock?"

"It seems," he continued, "that who or what ever these Velites are, they are in the process of invading the _Enterprise_."

* * *

They rushed out of the turbolift like the Hephasten forces were right behind them. Nurse Chapel and the human gurney's second half, Nurse Morris, carried Lieutenant Kyle the rest of the way to Sickbay. Nurse Page was bringing up the rear with Ensign Chekov in tow. The doors to the Sickbay swished open. There was no one there, just as Chapel had expected. She and her two nurses were just about the only medical personnel available onboard. The orders for bare-minimum crew can not been unexpected, but right now they sure were inconvenient.

Chapel steered Morris and Kyle to the nearest biobed. They set him down just as Page managed to get Chekov seated for an evaluation.

"Morris! Grab the bone-knitter. Page, as soon as you're done with Chekov, can you go see how Clyde's holding up in the other room?" Page nodded and went back to her work. Morris sped off to grab the instrument. Chapel loaded a hypo with enough painkillers to keep Kyle out for three more shifts, but then reconsidered. She instead took a tricorder and made a thorough scan of Kyle's head. 'Severe concussion', Page had diagnosed. Chapel toned down the painkiller. Kyle would sleep through any surgery or procedure, but he wouldn't be dead to the world in a couple of hours if the Hephasten situation worsened. _This is really worst case scenario,_ Chapel reasoned, _but Kyle knows the Helm if we need to make a getaway. I don't know if anyone else on the ship can do the job._ Morris slowed next to the biobed, bone-knitter in hand.

"Thanks, Morris." Chapel took up her revised hypo and gave Kyle the shot. "Start with the ribs first." Morris got to work with the bone-knitter.

"Page, how's Chekov?" Nurse Page looked over her shoulder at her boss. "He's fine. Well, relatively speaking. Preliminary tox-scans are coming back negative. They didn't drug him, but that goes right along with his version of events. Looks like he did get pretty banged up. Chekov's tough, though. He'll pull through." Page gave the ensign a clap on the back before hustling towards the operating theatre. Chekov winced once the nurse had left.

"Remind me to newer get sick when she is on duty." He rubbed his shoulder.

Not a moment later, Page came running back in. She looked more than a little alarmed. Chapel's internal klaxon blared. "What's the situation?"

Page came to a halt at the foot of Kyle's biobed. "It's Clyde, sir. Well, it's Crowley to be more precise. Clyde says he's rambling, refusing painkillers, and demanding to speak to an officer. Apparently," Page continued worriedly, "it's a matter of ship's safety."

Chapel pursed her lips and considered. "Can you handle this Morris? Actually, no. Page, help him out. I'm going to see what's going on in there." Both nurses got back to work the moment Chapel headed out. As Head Nurse, it was her responsibility to run the show while the doctors were away. It was not a job she was unused to. Even though M'Benga was her medicinal superior, degrees didn't count for a whole lot when it came to running a starship in crisis. When Doctor McCoy was away, everyone looked to Nurse Chapel for guidance.

She marched into the adjoining room and through a second door that led to the single-occupant rooms. Clyde was there, standing next to Crowley's biobed. The first thing Chapel checked was the monitor over the lieutenant's head. Vitals seemed safe, though a bit high for someone who should be resting. Chapel made her stance clear from the get-go.

"You should be getting some rest, Lieutenant. What's all this about ship's safety?" Nurse Clyde looked confused by the whole situation and fidgeted by the side of the bed. Crowley looked up at Nurse Chapel from his sitting position. _That's another thing I'll have to correct,_ Chapel noted, _He needs FOB time, whether it's voluntary or whether I'm going to convince him by hypo._

Crowley looked worn out. He had just come through a difficult surgery not sixteen hours ago, and was paler than he should be by a lot. There were dark circles under his eyes and his black hair was sticking out in several directions. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse as if he had been yelling. Chapel wondered if that was indeed the case.

"It's vitally important," he croaked, "that we get word to Commander Scott or the Captain. Someone's sabotaged the ship's systems."

Chapel blinked. She knew about the ongoing invasion from the transporter room, but sabotage? Then, she remembered the meeting in 7C.

"The sabotage… Crowley, what do you know? You'll need to tell me. As of right now, I'm probably the only walking officer on this ship."

Crowley and Clyde looked at her blankly.

"What, haven't you heard? I've been made. You're looking at _Lieutenant_ Christine Chapel, Head Nurse of the _USS Enterprise_ and Acting CMO while the good doctor is away." It was a hard-earned promotion, too, but Chapel relished the idea of an officer's status. In addition to the promotion, there had been an arrangement made with the Captain and Doctor McCoy regarding the chain of command while the Doctor was away or otherwise incapacitated. Captain Kirk had gotten antsy after the encounter with the Vians in the Minaran star system. All in all, it was a good idea to solidify the chain of command in preparation for a crisis.

"Well, go on. I'm listening."

Crowley cleared his throat and gave it a shot. "Alright. I know there's been some tampering with the ship's electrical systems for sure. Nurse Clyde gave me an update. I don't remember very much after the cooling system malfunctioned besides sparks and pain, but I can tell you that the readings were off with that hatch from the get-go." He paused to catch his breath. Chapel wasn't even sure that Crowley should be awake right now, let alone exposing saboteurs, but this was too important to put off until later.

"Whenever you're ready, lieutenant." Crowley gave her a nod of thanks and found his voice again. "Earlier, Commander Scott had me look into some static in the internal communications system. It quickly disappeared after I started investigating, but reappeared again later on. I couldn't explain it, so I set my tricorder to monitor the frequency and let me know if it increased or if there were any changes. Then, as I was walking toward the open maintenance hatch to perform an electrical checkup, my tricorder started beeping at me. I managed to get a look at the frequency analysis before the whole panel short-circuited." Crowley paused again. "I'm nearly certain that the signal originated on the planet's surface. Somebody down there is sabotaging the ship's systems remotely."

Chapel closed her eyes and took a deep breath. _This is going from bad to worse at Warp 9._

"Thank you for telling me this, Crowley. I think I can take it from here."

"Have you managed to contact the Captain or anyone else?"

For a moment, Chapel contemplated keeping Crowley in the dark about the invasion. _But he knows what's wrong with the ship and maybe how to fix it. He might even be able to shut down the transporter since Kyle is out of commission…_ It went against everything Chapel had been trained to do as a nurse, but she decided to let Crowley in on the situation.

"There's been no contact from any of our crew on the surface, besides Ensign Chekov. He managed to come aboard the ship via the transporter in order to stop a mounting invasion force sent up by the Hephastens."

Nurse Clyde gasped and Crowley's breath hitched. He coughed for a moment and Chapel worried about the condition of his diaphragm.

"So, we're being invaded now, huh?" Crowley gasped out after a moment. "Via transporter?"

"That's correct. Kyle is down and we're too busy fending them off to try and figure out a way to shut the whole system off. Got any ideas?"

"Just one." Crowley managed a smile. "We can easily access auxiliary controls near the engine room." He noted the frown growing on Chapel's face. "Or, since I'm not even thinking about getting up out of this bed," he revised, almost sighing with relief when her face cleared, "Someone could head up to the bridge and shut down the power to the transporter through the bridge control panel. You know the Engineer's console where Commander Scott is stationed when he's not cracking the whip in the engine- Never mind. You said Chekov's here? He knows where it is. If he's up for it, I can tell him what to do and he can take care of the whole thing."

"We'll have to see about Chekov." Chapel liked the plan, but there was still the safety of the crew, _her crew_ as she now thought of them, to consider. "I'll have to clear him for this. Lieutenant, Nurse." She nodded to each of them before her exit as she had seen Captain Kirk do many times before. _I'll see if Chekov is fit for active duty._ Chapel decided. _I'd like him to get some rest before he's up and about again, but desperate times call for desperate measures._

* * *

On Hepheste I's surface, the sandstorm had gone from bad to downright scary. Kirk had been dragged from Queen Avilius' throne room by six armed guards. They had led him through the mock Senatorial Forum into a coat room where he was required to suit up for an outdoor journey. Now, with a thick coat buttoned up to his chin and a heavy scarf wrapped around his face, Captain James T Kirk was being led at gunpoint into a Hephasten sand-fire.

He got a face-full of sand the moment he stepped out the door. The heat wave hit next, threatening to bowl over the little party in its intensity. Despite the broiling temperatures, Kirk was thankful for the big overcoat. Buttoned securely, it kept most of the grainy debris from pummeling his sides, arms, and legs. He pulled the back portion of his scarf over the top of his head to keep most of the sand from pelting his ears. Now that it was functioning as more of a cowl, Kirk had a great appreciation for the scarf as well.

The Royal Guards were leading him to the house of Summanus, leader of the Quaestionarius. Kirk had gleaned the information pretty early on, when Queen Avilius had said, "General, have Captain Kirk taken to Summanus". His greater concern was for Spock and Scotty. They were being taken goodness-knows-where to almost certain death. And as far as he knew, Spock was still drugged and unconscious. He didn't trust Gallus Bellona or Queen Avilius with an inch. Kirk was worried what they might do with a mile- they had him, they had most of his crew, and from what he could infer from the General's conversation, they had a plan to infiltrate the _Enterprise._

There was a faint light at the end of the black street. From Spock's detailed descriptions of the city and his own intuition, Kirk figured that this must be the place. It was eerie not seeing a single Hephasten citizen the whole way here. Blandus Varius had informed them in the beginning that there was housing provided by the 'Senate' for the survivors, but Kirk had a suspicion that his housing was closer to the iron-bar type.

They approached the awning slowly. This was indeed their destination. One of the Royal Guards stepped up to the door and gave what Kirk assumed to be a special knock. The door was quickly opened by a child dressed in tan and orange. The boy, who seemed to be about ten or eleven, ushered the men inside. Once past the threshold, the guards began removing their coats and instructed Kirk to do the same. As Kirk shook the grit from his hair, he took a look around the lobby. The House of Summanus was an average sized inn, painted in beige and maroon with splashes of green here and there in the trim. _Subtle alignment to the crown, I see. This is definitely the place._

The young boy started collecting the garments and the scarves, coming to the Captain last. Kirk observed the boy and his actions. He seemed like an ordinary Hephasten child from what he had seen, although this boy had bandages wrapped around his forehead and arms. _Those almost look like…_ Kirk's musings were cut short. When he had held out his coat and scarf, the boy grabbed them up eagerly. Seven heavy overcoats appeared to be too much, for the boy staggered under their weight and dropped the whole pile at Kirk's feet.

One of the guards made an angry noise as the lad stooped to collect the outerwear. Kirk bent over to assist him. None of the guards protested, so he went about retrieving scarves with the Hephasten youth.

"Sir. Do not be alarmed." The boy hissed quietly.

Kirk didn't look up but nodded slightly, signaling for the boy to continue.

"I am Aulus Valerius, friend of Doctor McCoy." Kirk stiffened but quickly forced himself back into movement so he wouldn't arouse suspicion.

Aulus continued. "My clan is pledged to assist you. But, you must wait until we have word from the Forge. If all goes well, we will receive aid before morning. Stay alert. Guard the Doctor for me, as I can no longer stay by his side. May your endeavors bear fruit."

Aulus suddenly stood and snatched the coats from Kirk's hands. He rushed off through another doorway and didn't give the Captain a second thought. _Good._ Kirk decided. _This kid's a natural born actor. I bet the Royal Guards pay him no attention whatsoever._ He didn't have time to think much about Aulus' warning, however. Moments later, a door on the other side of the room opened. A middle-aged woman dressed in some sort of green and red uniform strode in. She was smirking. That set Kirk on edge.

"Summanus, head of the Quaestionarius, I presume?"

Summanus stopped in her tracks. Whatever impression she was trying to make had been blown out of the water. This upset her. She scowled. The dark expression suddenly reminded Kirk of exactly _who_ she had in her power, and he resolved to shut up.

"Indeed." She clipped. "And you must be the Captain Kirk." Summanus' eyes lit up and she found a reason to grin. "I've already become acquainted with several of your officers, including one… troublesome physician."

Kirk froze, but his thoughts were whirling a mile a minute. _Avilius wasn't lying. She has Bones. Troublesome? What did Bones do? What has she_ done _to_ Bones?

Summanus addressed the guards. "Escort the Captain this way. Make sure he does not stray off our course." She turned and exited the room. Kirk was shoved forward with the side of someone's phaser rifle. He got the hint and marched after her.

The inn was smaller than Kirk had anticipated, but he was quickly shown why. The front few rooms were a façade. They went through a second doorway at the end of the first hall and into what must be the Quaestionarius HQ. The room was painted in the same beige as the rest of the inn, but all the trim was done in dark red. A long metal table stood in the center of the room. It was aligned to a view screen mounted on the wall. Several charts, graphs, and notices were pinned up next to it, as well as on a separate section of the wall designated for these documents. White light emanated from high slits in the walls. Kirk wanted to examine some of the papers more closely to see what kind of Intel the Hephastens really had, but he was shoved forward again.

Summanus led the group down another curved hallway and into a wide, low chamber. It was divided into two sections by a peach-colored wall. The wall had a single metal door with a porthole-shaped window, and other larger windows on either side. It gave the appearance of a zoo enclosure or similar exhibition space. Kirk's attention was drawn first to the giant security panel in the nearest corner. Cameras were apparently set up all over the building. He saw feeds from the lobby, several unknown rooms, both hallways, and two from the second half of this room. What drew his attention next was the patch of bright blue sticking out from all that peach and beige. _Bones._

Kirk whipped his head toward the larger glass window and scanned the second half of the room. There were a few peachy ottomans and wide benches in the chamber, but only one of them was occupied. In the far corner, half-covered with some sort of glittery sheet, was the unmoving body of his Chief Medical Officer.

"BONES!" He shouted and leapt at the door. A few of the guards made an effort to stop him, but Kirk managed to beat them to the punch. He sent the first guard barreling back into the others and made a break for it. The door swung open easily. Either it wasn't locked, or it only opened from the outside. Frankly, Kirk didn't care. He lunged toward the bench in the far corner.

It _was_ Doctor McCoy. His back was turned to the doorway, but Kirk identified his friend immediately. He knelt alongside the low bench and rolled McCoy onto his back. The Doctor didn't respond. Kirk shoved a limp arm out of his way and listened for a heartbeat at once, he found one. Kirk sagged with relief.

However, he was concerned that Bones, ordinarily no heavy sleeper, would have failed to respond by now. Kirk took hold of a blue shoulder and shook. "Bones? Doctor McCoy, wake up." He shook a little harder. Nothing. "Doctor, that's an order. Come on! Snap out of it, Bones!" By now Kirk had a grip on both of McCoy's shoulders. He was starting to panic. _Is he drugged? What did Summanus give him? What did she do?_ Kirk turned to face the open doorway.

Summanus was leaning on the doorframe. She raised her eyebrows at Kirk's icy glare. "Something I can assist you with, Captain?" Her voice dripped with false concern.

"As a matter of fact," Kirk snarled, "there is! You can tell me exactly what you've done to my Chief Medical Officer, and then you can _un_ do it!"

Summanus almost laughed. Kirk was and the end of his tether. Either this agent would give him answers, or he was going to beat them out of somebody.

"I am terribly sorry, Captain," Summanus replied, "But I am under orders to do no such thing. You see, your Doctor might be required by my Queen. If your other Officers fail in the Forge, then they will need replacements." There was a sinister glint in her eye as she continued. "My agents have surveyed your crew. The Doctor is highly regarded by all and will be a suitable substitute if the Engineer should fall."

"Substitute?" Kirk ground out. "For what?"

"Why, we will need someone to facilitate our invasion plans. Should the Engineer survive, he will be assigned to our new flagship. The Queen plans on renaming her The _HRS Conquest._ An appropriate name, I think. The Queen will need someone who knows enough about the nature of a Federation starship to navigate back to your Terran home world, eventually. Up until that point, they will need to be reconditioned. Your Engineer and your Doctor are our top candidates."

Kirk moved sideways and held his arm in front of the bench defensively. "Forgive me if I can't go along with that plan. You won't get anywhere near Doctor McCoy while I still live and breathe."

Summanus laughed out loud this time. Kirk flinched and prepared to repel multiple attackers.

"Do you not know why he still sleeps?" Summanus chuckled. Kirk's eyes widened. "I believe you have been informed, but I will tell you again: Not all Hephats are psi-null. In fact, the Quaestionarius is composed of only active telepaths. Deduce for yourself, Captain. What kind of telepath is likely to lead such an organization?"

Kirk' nostrils flared. He understood perfectly well the implications of Summanus' statement.

"A very powerful one, Captain." Summanus smirked again but did not move from her position in the doorway. It seemed that she was enjoying the show.

 


	10. Chapter 10

Christine Chapel hurried back toward the turbolift. Chekov trailed just behind her, clutching a PADD full of information to his chest. After clearing the ensign for duty, Chapel stayed for Crowley's briefing. Chekov seemed to know exactly what was required of him, or at least that's what it looked like. As the pair settled into the turbolift, Chekov went over the instructions on the PADD again. Crowley knew the proper sequence for killing the power to the transporter and had transcribed specific procedures for Chekov to follow onto the device. Most of the technical mumbo-jumbo went over Chapel's head, but she was mainly there for Chekov's well-being. She didn't trust his accuracy with a phaser in the event that their lines of defense had been overcome, and she was also aware that the ensign had been through an ordeal. Trauma was a tricky thing, even if it was only minor injuries and coercion. Chapel wasn't about to let this patient out of her sight.

The lift doors swished open to reveal a deserted bridge. Any security personnel who had been up here had probably joined the redshirts near the transporter room. Either way, the ship's orbit was fixed and all systems appeared to be running smoothly. Whoever the Hephasten saboteurs were, they were done tampering for the time being. In the event that they continued causing problems, Crowley had devised defense tactic as well.

From his biobed, Crowley had examined the readings from his tricorder and discovered that the strange static was a result of an unknown electromagnetic wave targeting various systems onboard the _Enterprise._ Because of Crowley's injury and the subsequent Engineering lockout, Scotty and his men had not been able to get the ship's screens up past 85% power. Crowley calculated that a 92% power level would be enough to stop the waves from affecting the ship.

"It's a very powerful signal." He had said in the Sickbay. "It's concentrated too. That's why it could affect us hundreds of thousands of kilometers away. At close range, it could be devastating." He had been glad that the Hephastens hadn't fired the thing up since the _Enterprise_ came into orbit.

Once they hit the bridge, Chekov had run immediately over to the Engineer's station and punched in Crowley's codes. Chapel was standing by the wall comm to check in with the defenders. As soon as Chekov gave the thumbs up, she called it in.

"Bridge to Transporter room. How are things holding up down there?" There was a pause before she received her answer.

"Transporter Room to Bridge, this is Ensign Turney. I'm on the wall unit in the hallway. The Hephasten troops have stopped beaming aboard, and all the lights have switched off inside the transporter itself. What's going on up there?"

Chapel almost laughed out loud. She took her finger off the call button and yelled to Chekov. "We did it! The transporter's down!" The ensign broke into a huge grin and did a victory dance right there on the bridge. Chapel opened communications again. "Secure those prisoners left in the transporter room, Ensign. We've shut down the whole system." Chapel remembered Crowley's other plan. "You have new orders. I want every one of you who isn't moving prisoners to report to Engineering on the double. I'll make a ship-wide in a second."

Turney gave her affirmative and ended the connection. Chapel set up a ship-wide connection and addressed her crew. "Attention all hands! Attention all hands! This is Lieutenant Chapel. I need every available hand to assist in Engineering. We need to get our screens up to 92 percent power in the next fifteen minutes." Crowley had calculated from Chekov's story how long it would take for the Hephastens to mount a counter-attack after the transporter went down. "All available hands report to Engineering immediately. It is imperative that we get those screens up as soon as possible." Chapel signed off and closed the connection. Chekov was back at her side.

"Ensign, we need to get back to Sickbay. One way or another, Crowley is going to have to be on hand in the engine room or we might not make it. Go on ahead to Engineering and lend a hand. I'm going to radio back to Sickbay and have a gurney prepped.

The turbolift doors slid shut again and Chapel contacted her nurses.

"Morris? What's Kyle's status, first off?"

" _He's stable."_ Came the voice on the other end. " _What's going on, sir?"_

"Morris, stay with Kyle. Tell Page to prep a gurney and get Clyde to move Crowley to Engineering."

" _Move Crowley? But Chapel, that's-"_

"That's an order, Morris. We need to get those screens up yesterday and Crowley's probably the only one on the ship with that particular know-how, and definitely the only one who knows exactly what the heck is going on around here! Get Page. Get Clyde. Get Crowley to Engineering. Chapel out."

To her absolute delight, the screens were up to 95 percent power in ten minutes. When she had said 'all hands', Christine Chapel had not expected _all hands_. A conglomeration of Command Yellow, Science Blue, and Operations Red met her in the engine room. The security personnel posted outside hadn't even tried to stop the inflow of people. In fact, Chapel had heard, they were the first responders.

Lieutenant Crowley had directed operations from the gurney and had made no move to get out of it. He didn't want to be sedated. _Smart boy,_ Chapel had thought. The crew had been working furiously, and those not elbow deep in circuitry had been running for parts, water, or instructions. It was a team effort if Chapel had ever seen one.

Now, she was standing next to Crowley's gurney surveying the scene. Many of the crew members from Science and Command had reported to the bridge for extensive monitoring of the planet, despite the fact that it was getting closer to midnight. They had been attacked. Everyone was wide awake.

The Operations people not needed in the engine room had gone to check on the prisoners and relieve the hall defenders from guard duty. The remaining four or five engineers were tweaking systems to get more power to the screens, shields, and weapons systems, even thought Commander Scott had ensured full power to ship's phasers earlier. They were preparing for other kinds of assault. No one knew if the Hephastens had ships of their own, or what their land-to-air weapons capabilities were.

In the middle of all this preparation, Chapel made her way back to the bridge to check on things up there. Whether she was the highest ranking officer onboard or not, everyone was looking to her to lead them. Chapel was definitely a senior member of the crew and everyone respected her.

On the bridge, six crewmen were manning their stations diligently. No one sat in the Captain's chair, but a yellow-shirted ensign paced back and forth on the upper platform, monitoring.

"Ensign," Chapel addressed the yellow-shirt. "Report. What's the status of the ship?"

The ensign snapped to attention. She stood straight and delivered her report. "Screens at 98% and holding steady. Shields and maximum available power. We've tried contacting the surface through Hephasten channels as well as communicator signals but have received no answer. This could be due to reported interference from a large sandstorm on the planet's surface, but we have no conclusive data on that."

Chapel nodded. "Good work, ensign. Now, we just have to hold out until we receive word from the Captain, Commander Spock, or-"

She was cut off by a beeping sound directly behind her. Chapel turned to face the Communications station where a flushed ensign in red sat pushing buttons.

"Incoming transmission from the surface, sir!" He stammered. "It looks like it's from a communicator, origin: 1300 kilometers north of the capital city."

"Get it through. Put it on speaker. I want to hear this." Chapel moved toward the station to get a look at the panels. Maybe some of the readings could provide more information. Suddenly, the small speaker on the console screeched to life. There was a troubling amount of static, but also a voice.

" _Enterprise, do you read? I don't have much time!"_

Chapel recognized the speaker immediately.

* * *

Scotty and Spock stayed by the cart while the Velite's conference continued. Scotty had done his best to fill Spock in on their capture, the Queen's plan, and Bellona's speech. Spock found the details about the Quaestionarius and their tactics "Most interesting", but beyond that had little to say on the matter. Once Scotty finished his narrative, Spock sat in silent contemplation for a few minutes. When he finally spoke, it was to pose a question.

"Why, Mister Scott, did you desire me to come on this journey instead of the Captain?"

"Well," began Scott, "For one thing, Mister Spock, you have the advantage of being Vulcan. I'd expect you to know your way around a hot climate." After Spock nodded, Scott continued. "And for another thing, if anyone can squeeze out of a tight spot, it's James T Kirk! He'll probably slip away and alert the _Enterprise_ before we can find away out of this mess."

"That is remarkably sound logic, Mister Scott." Spock replied.

"Why thank you, Mister Spock!" Scotty smiled for a moment, but his grin fell when he saw one of the Velites approaching. This soldier was almost as tall as Tacitus and just as muscular. Both Scotty and Spock turned to face their visitor. Scotty was surprised when the soldier pushed him towards the giant door.

"Move!" He growled in an exceedingly loud voice. He stunned Scotty with the whispered sentiment, "Many apologies."

Slightly startled but willing to go along with any potential alliance, Scott complied. Spock went right along with them, having overheard the monstrous man's apology. A few of the Velites turned to look at the procession, but most ignored it. _Whatever's happening,_ Scotty reflected, _it must be pretty standard. Better make the best of it._

The burly Velite paused when they had all reached the corner of the giant door. In the vast stretch of stone, Scotty could see a second smaller door that seemed to lead into the volcano as well. It was near this space that the Velite had paused. Near the stone handle, there was an electronic pad attached to the wall. The Velite searched his pockets until he located a small blue box that blinked red occasionally.

"It is the key." He whispered. The Velite then turned to face the two of them and made as if he was explaining something. He no longer appeared to pay any attention to the doorway, but looked from behind like he was giving the Starfleet men instructions. This perception was not entirely false.

"The doorway is constructed of stone mined from the foothills of the Great Forge." The Velite began telling them the history of the Warrior's tunnel, all the while gesturing with his hidden arm. Scotty got the impression that they were to wait until this man gave the signal and then run through the small door as quickly as they were able. He would make sure they were not followed for some time. "And if you survive the Walk of the Condemned," he finished, "The Queen may find favor with you and you will be rewarded." He looked at them for a sign of comprehension. Spock nodded once and Scotty acknowledged with a simple "Understood".

The Velite looked over his shoulder to find all of his comrades distracted in idle conversation. He slipped the blue box into the panel slot. It blinked once. The door clicked and swung open easily.

"Go!" The Velite hissed.

Scotty and Spock were dashing down the red-lit corridor as fast as their legs would take them. Spock pulled ahead early but made sure to match pace with Scott so he would not be left behind or lost. They could hear shouts behind them. There was a loud _BANG!_ And another set of footsteps joined them in the hallway. Scotty looked over his shoulder to see the outline of their Velite ally attempting to catch up with them. The man was quick, for he came up just behind them in the space of thirty yards.

"Take your next left up ahead!" He called to the Starfleet men. They did.

The hallway opened up into a much larger chamber. A wave of heat rolled over the trio. They were standing in the heart of the Great Forge. Molten rock flowed by to their right. Stalactites and stalagmites adorned the space to their left. Dead ahead was the Walk of the Condemned. A rough trail sloped upward into the rock face until it disappeared into a dark hole midway up the wall.

"This is only the beginning." The Velite explained. "We must hurry through. The others will have the door opened in an hour's time."

"May I inquire as to who you are and why you are helping us?" Spock turned to face their rescuer.

The Velite took off his ceremonial helmet and tossed it to the side. It rolled a little ways and then sank into the river of molten rock. The Velite then wiped the sweat forming on his brow and met Spock's gaze. He was a clear-faced, honest looking sort of man, with the half-smiling expression of someone who was about to share a joke. Something about this Hephasten man seemed familiar to Scotty, but he knew he'd never seen him before now.

"Allow me to introduce myself." The Velite cracked a smile. "My name is Merces Evandrus, and I believe you have already met my brother."

Scotty's eyes widened in recognition. "The messenger from the Senate!"

"Indeed." Evandrus affirmed. "Sergius has informed me of your plight. I have known for some time that the 'High Senate' was preparing to strike. It is unfortunate that good men have been lured into such trouble." He shook his head. "But, now that the Queen has played her hand, it is time for my clan to play ours! We have waited since the beginning of King Cardia's rule to overthrow the corrupt monarchy. As terrible as this catastrophe in Flagratus is, this is the perfect opportunity to strike. Come quickly then," Evandrus led the Starfleet men towards the trail. "We must hurry if we are to escape with our lives. While the sandstorm still lasts, we have a chance. After it has subsided, the Queen's troops will gather on the mountain and dispose of us."

He took off up the incline. Scotty exchanged a glance with Spock. They hurried after him.

The trail was fairly steep until it leveled out just before the dark opening. They slowed just before the doorway.

"I have no light and I suspect you also do not." Evandrus commented. "The walls are close here. We may navigate with them. All should be well." Without turning, Evandrus plunged into the tunnel.

"It's as black as the Earl of Hell's waistcoat…" Scotty remarked.

"Indeed." Spock replied and took off into the darkness.

Scotty took a deep breath and followed.

The walls were very close together, they discovered. Fortunately, the floor was even and the trail was straight. After several minutes of travel, 22.4 minutes by Spock's internal clock, they exited into another wide chamber. The ceiling stretched up almost into darkness again. The lower portion of the room was lit by a stream of glowing iron on either side. As wide as the room was, it was not very deep. About fifteen feet ahead, a steep rock face stretched almost the entire way to the ceiling. Near the top, there was a carved doorway. If Scotty squinted, he could make out the remains of an old torch-holder near the little arch.

Evandrus turned to face them. "Well, now we climb." He clapped his hands together and began charting a course in his mind. Scotty watched as the Velite began to ascend the steep wall. Spock took a moment to plan his movements and then followed. Scotty gulped. He looked down at his gloved and and flexed his fingers. The movement hurt. Bad sign. He examined the rock face again. There didn't seem to be an easy way up. Scotty looked up once more and took a deep breath. Steeling himself for the journey, he reached up and began to climb.

The effect was immediate. He could feel the stinging in his wrist and the extra tension from hoisting his own weight. Spock and Evandrus were pulling ahead. Scotty exhaled through his nostrils and kept going. A few pebbles rained down from the climbers above him. Scotty shut his eyes and waited for the dust to settle. His arm was starting to shake. He reached upwards with his left to find a handhold. Once he got a grip, Scotty relieved the pressure on his injured limb and moved upward.

The next handhold was more problematic. In the growing dimness, Scotty didn't see the spider web cracks snaking out from just below his perspective hold. As soon as his hand put pressure on the rock, it gave, leaving him dangling by one foot and his injured hand. Scotty cried out as the drop jarred his wrist. As quickly as he could, he secured a second handhold. His left foot still swung about wildly in search of a solid ledge.

"Mister Scott? Are you in need of assistance?" Spock's voice echoed from the ledge above. It had taken Scotty all this time to make it halfway up, while Spock and Evandrus had already gained the upper ledge.

"I believe so, Mister Spock!" Scotty gasped through the sudden stabbing in his wrist. _If I hadn't pulled somethin' before, I've sure done it now!_ He lamented. "Is there a rope or some such thing sittin' 'round up there?"

Scotty shut his eyes tightly against the pain but heard Spock's shuffling up on the ledge. His voice echoed downward after a moment. "There is some rope, but it is not enough to reach you. We have supplemented the length with Evandrus' belt, but you will have to climb further for it to be effective."

Taking another breath. Scotty looked up. Dangling about five feet above his head was the end of the rope. He could feel the throbbing in his wrist, but he knew it was either sink or swim at this point. _Well, it's 'fall or climb' in this case, I suppose._ _I'm pure done in, but we might be the Enterprise's only chance!_

Scotty fixed his attention on the rope. He felt around and found a handhold. Slowly, Scotty worked his way upwards. It was an arduous process, pulling himself higher and then having to stop and take pressure off of his arm. After several minutes, he was within a few inches of grasping the rope. Spock was leaning as far over the upper ledge as he was able, with Evandrus acting as an anchor. The rope was close. It was too late to give up. With one last burst of effort, Scotty lunged upward and wrapped his good hand around the rope. Spock pulled back. Scotty had to grip the rope with his other hand in order to support his weight. It was painful, but by golly, could Spock haul line.

At the ledge, Evandrus let go of Spock and hoisted Scotty the rest of the way up. Exhausted but thankful to be alive, Scotty fell back against the wall and caught his breath. Spock was at his side in a moment scrutinizing him in the low light.

"What is the source of the crisis, Mister Scott?"

Once Scotty got his gasping under control, he answered, "It's my wrist, Mister Spock. I sprained it this morning. Doctor McCoy gave me a biobrace and we covered it up with this here glove." Scotty raised the limb and lowered it quickly with a wince. "The Doctor said it was just a sprain, but I've had to use it since then."

In the darkness, Evandrus' lips formed a thin line before he spoke. "We can afford to take a short rest. In the meantime, I may be able to provide you with information. Is there anything you wish to know?"

Spock answered for the both of them. "As a matter of fact, there is. We wish to know several things. The location of our crew is of vital importance, as well as the states of our Captain and Chief Medical Officer. The nature of the High Senate's plans would also be very informative."

Evandrus sighed. "There is much that you do not know. To begin with, your crew is safe. Their safety is assured, as the Queen sees value in undamaged hostages. She is not an enemy to be underestimated. She has the great brain. As for your Captain and Medical Officer… I know they are both being held in the House of Summanus, the leader of the Quaestionarius. She is a powerful enemy and a skilled telepath. No doubt she will try and gain information from your officers whether by physcial or telepathic interrogation."

Both Scotty and Spock stiffened at the revelation. _Telepathic_ _interrogation…_ Spock repeated in his thoughts, _I am concerned for Jim's well-being, but more so for the Doctor. He has not had, as he would put it, 'an excellent track-record' with telepaths…_

Evandrus seemed not to notice their reaction and continued. "As for the 'High Senate', they plan to launch an assault on your Federation by infiltrating your home world's atmosphere and attacking from there. I do not think it is the best of plans, but the Queen is adamant on this course of action. I believe all of her power has corrupted her mind. She does not think beyond the glory and triumph in the face of her enemy's annihilation. She thinks herself too clever to be outwitted by anyone. Certainly, this ruse has succeeded thus far, but I doubt that your Federation will let themselves be taken down without a fight. At this very moment, an attack has been launched against the remaining crew onboard your ship. The Velites, which you may have realized is our highest infantry, are being transported aboard with instructions to secure all personnel and weapons. The Great Harvest, as they have termed their plan, is nearly complete. Most of Flagratus' citizens have been moved to an alternative facility so that they will not get in the way of the battle preparations." At this point, Evandrus sighed again. This time, it was a more sorrowful sound than they had yet heard from him.

"Our people have been beaten into submission. King Cardia's reign conditioned them to behave as cattle- subservient to the so-called 'higher classes' and the crown. That is why no one has spoken to you beyond common courtesies. Our people have been terrified by the Velites and the threat of punishment from the crown. They dare not reveal any of their knowledge publicly, for the Quaestionarius are everywhere. The Queen's network extends into every clan, every family group, and every workplace. She has even managed to imprison our city's surgeons so that the full forces of your ship's medical team would be required. The only physicians left answer directly to Summanus."

Evandrus turned toward them with a sad smile. "It is clear why my clan endeavors to overthrow the queen." He chuckled suddenly. "It was strange, how we were introduced to your plight. My young kinsman, a boy serving in the House of Summanus, came across your Medical Officer in one of the hospital tents and ascertained your crew's good nature. Through him, we have spread the word to our loyal clansmen. The plan is to escape the Forge and then send word to young Aulus and effect your officers' escape. Until then-"

Evandrus was cut off by the sound of shouting in the lower tunnel. "They are early!" He hissed and hurried Scotty to his feet.

"They are precisely on time." Spock countered as they rushed into the next passageway. "Your estimated hour expired approximately 17.3 minutes ago."

The shouting increased in volume. Scotty lunged forward in a full-on sprint in an effort to catch up with Evandrus and Spock. They were rapidly increasing their distance. Scotty was breathing hard. It had been difficult enough hauling himself most of the way up a sheer cliff. Now, he had to keep up with newly realized track stars. As the light receded behind him, so did the voices of the Velites. At least, for now they did. Scotty heard another sound replace the shouting: violent gusts of wind.

At the mouth of the tunnel, Spock and Evandrus were yelling to be heard over the storm.

" _We need to establish communications with the Enterprise immediately!"_ Spock reasoned over the wind.

" _If you believe that is the best course of action! Here! I have one of your communicators. My brother managed to obtain one from the Royal Guardhouse!"_

Scotty ran forward and snatched the communicator from Evandrus' hand. " _You two watch the tunnel!"_ He yelled. " _You'll be able t'hold 'em off longer 'n I can!"_ Evandrus and Spock both seemed to agree with this logic and stood guard just inside the entryway. Scotty fought against the wind to get as high up on the mountain as he could. The tunnel had come out fairly close to the 'peak' of the Great Forge. It was an active volcano, yes, but much of the summit was covered over in igneous rock. Scotty finally managed to find a secure location. At once, he tried to hail the _Enterprise._

" _Enterprise! This is Commander Scott! Do you read?"_

No response.

" _Enterprise! I'm on the planet's surface! Respond!"_

There was a crackle and Scott thought he heard something like a squeaked affirmative. That was all the answer he needed.

" _Enterprise, do you read? I don't have much time!"_

_"Mister Scott? What's your status? We need to know what's happening down there!"_

It was Nurse Chapel, of all people. Scotty was surprised and delighted that someone had taken charge of the ship. He trusted Chapel like he trusted Doctor McCoy.

" _Chapel! Thank goodness y've answered! The ship is goin' t'be attacked at any time now!"_

_"We know, Commander. We've repelled boarders, shut down the transporters, and increased screens to 98% power! What's happening down there? Where's the Captain? Why isn't anyone answering our hails?"_

_"Part of it is this blasted sandstorm!"_ Scott yelled into his communicator. " _I'm standin' up on a great bloody mountain and th' thing barely works! Another thing- They've all been captured! The Captain included! Mister Spock an' I are attemptin' t'make a rescue. There's some sort o' resistance down here."_ Out of the corner of his eye, Scotty saw Spock and Evandrus evacuating the tunnel. " _I have to sign off right now, Chapel! Take care o' the ship! Will call when I can!"_

_"But Scotty-"_

He flipped the communicator closed and hurried down to meet his companions. Spock promptly grabbed him by the arm and steered him the other way. "We must flee, Mister Scott." Was his only explanation.

So, they fled. Evandrus had the route mapped out. He led the Starfleet men around rocks, through outcroppings, and over depressions in the mountain's surface. For a while, Scott could see their pursuers far too clearly. Thanks to Evandrus' route, they lost sight of the other Velites.

Eventually, Evandrus led them to a cluster of boulders on the opposite side of the mountain from where they had begun. It was a good hour's journey to get there, and by now Scotty was exhausted beyond his own comprehension. Spock was breathing harder as well, but he showed no other signs of tiring. Scotty stumbled forward and nearly fell face first into a pile of gravel. He was saved by the lightning reflexes of Spock, who caught the engineer and helped him to a seated position.

Evandrus had completed a circuit around the outcropping and returned to the duo.

"We will wait here. Horatius Valerius, my cousin, is on his way with transportation. He entered into the service of the crown as a woodcutter and has access to the state's delivery vehicles." Evandrus leaned back against one of the taller boulders and slid to the ground. He hadn't spoken a word of complaint the entire trip, but seemed oddly cheery about the whole affair. Evandrus noticed Scotty's observing glance and smiled.

"I have good reason to rejoice. For the first time in nearly sixty years, we have a chance to overthrow the monarchy once and for all. The Federation is our ideal ally in this quest. No more shall we be treated as second class citizens in our own cities- by our own government!" Evandrus gestured to the air. "We can once again live as equals. No class divisions, no subservience to the crown…"

"Such societies take work and careful planning to maintain. Preserve no illusions that this will be an immediate change." Spock spoke up. "But, the Federation can offer aid for the duration of this transition."

Evandrus nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, I realize that this is no easy task, but the opportunity itself is worth the struggle. We have waited a very long time." The Hephasten fell silent and Spock turned his attention back to his shipmate.

"Mister Scott. You appear unwell. Is your injury troubling you?"

Scotty shook his head and responded with a tired smile. "It's not so bad as y'might think. I'm just pure worn out, Mister Spock. I haven't slept properly since… What day is it… and Crowley went into surgery this morning… Two nights ago, I'd wager."

Spock pursed his lips. He knew that human sleep cycles differed from those experienced by Vulcans, but after spending some time around irritable and sleep-deprived humans, Spock was certain that the situation could degenerate.

"You should attempt to rest before the delivery vehicle arrives. As I am caught up on my typical sleep cycle, I am capable of standing watch."

Scotty sagged back against the outcropping. Though he did his best to cover it, relief seeped into his response. "You… You really mean it, Mister Spock?"

Spock could tell this was the correct move. "Indeed. I shall wake you when the vehicle arrives."

"Aye. Aye and thank you Mister Spock. I'll owe y'one for this!" Scotty leaned back and tried to relax. By Spock's estimate, he fell asleep within 4.6 minutes of closing his eyes.

 


	11. Chapter 11

The bridge had gone quiet. Nearly everyone had heard Scotty's message.

"He cut the communication on his own?" Chapel asked flatly.

"Yes sir." The Ensign responded. "I couldn't get him back if I wanted to. The sandstorm is picking up in his area. I'm sorry, sir."

Chapel sighed. _Just when we finally get a look at what's going on down there…_ She stalked over to the Navigator's console where Chekov was busy attempting to look busy.

"Anything to report, Mister Chekov? How's the head injury?"

Chekov started and looked up with a panicked expression. "Nothing! Nothing is happening, sir. Just routine. Ah, my head is doing wery well, sir. Nothing to report."

Chapel fought back a smile and nodded sternly. "Very good, Mister Chekov. Carry on." She turned and made her way back up to the turbolift. "Ensign Lewis," Chapel called over her shoulder, "You keep an eye on things. I need to be back in Sickbay for a few minutes."

The yellow-shirted ensign bobbed her head. "Yes sir. I'll take care of it sir."

Before Chapel could set foot through the lift doors, someone recalled her.

"Lieutenant Chapel! Sir, there's a message from the brig. Ensign Turney says there's a problem with one of the prisoners. It's not urgent, apparently, but your presence is requested as soon as is convenient."

"Very well, Ensign. Keep up the good work. I'll be in Sickbay for a few minutes. Call me there if anything changes."

Nurse Page was waiting just inside the Sickbay doors.

"Page? What's wrong?"

The nurse cracked a half smile. "Nothing, actually. I was headed to my quarters. Morris said he and Clyde had everything covered. Is it alright if I go take a nap?"

Chapel hesitated. She bit her lip. "Page, I know you're beat. We're all beat." When the nurse's face fell, Chapel continued hurriedly. "Now, I'm not saying you're off duty. I'm just saying that the mattress in the quarantine room needs additional compression for the next… Oh, two hours. Now hurry! This is urgent! I should know: I'm a medical professional."

Page's face lit up. "Absolutely, sir. I will get _right on it_." She had the nerve to wink before she left. Chapel laughed. _I'll have Morris go get her if anything happens. They all need more sleep, bless 'em. Sleep is important, perhaps the most important thing to remember to do on a starship. That, and don't interrupt the Captain when he's getting some rest of his own…_

Chapel strode into Sickbay proper to find Nurse Morris attentively checking Lieutenant Kyle's vitals. The transporter chief was unconscious and stable.

"Lieutenant." Morris addressed Chapel with a grin. "I'm going to go ahead and report. Kyle's doing pretty well. I've got the internal damage sorted out. He should be back to his old self in a few hours."

"Good to hear. Are Clyde and Crowley back from Engineering yet?"

Morris nodded. "Yep. Clyde's convinced him to get some sleep. After all that hustle and bustle down there, it's probably for the best."

"Excellent." Chapel took a pace toward the PADD on the desk and then stopped. A look of concern crossed her features. She frowned and then looked back at Morris and Kyle.

"Something wrong?" Morris inquired.

"Well, not really." Chapel admitted. "I've been requested down in the brig. Page is in the isolation ward working on mattress compression, and I need to be sure that everything is alright up here."

"You've got nothing to worry about. Both Crowley and Kyle are asleep. Clyde and I can take care of it."

Chapel breathed a sigh of relief. "That makes things much easier. Thanks, Morris." She walked towards the doorway, but turned back to face Morris. "You do a good job, you know that? You, Page, and Clyde. I really appreciate this. Everything. Thank you."

Morris smiled back at her. "It's no problem at all. You know, we really appreciate you too, sir."

She knew.

The brig was dead silent. It was unnerving. Chapel strode quickly through the hallway. A couple of redshirt security boys were playing fizzbin in one corner. Chapel cracked a smile. Ever since the stories of Captain Kirk's epic bluff on Sigma Iotia II had reached the ears of the crew, there had been a high demand for the official rules of "fizzbin". A pair of yeomen had puzzled out the basics and taught it to the rest of the crew in phases. Now, everyone in red and quite a few from the other departments knew and loved a good game of fizzbin. But, that didn't mean the brig was the place for a quick hand.

"Gentlemen." Chapel barked when she was close enough to startle them. It worked. _Maybe Doctor McCoy was right._ She thought. _Perhaps I am getting a bit too sneaky._ Fully alert and duly embarrassed, the redshirts stood at attention.

"Where's Ensign Turney? I was told there was a situation down here."

One of the redshirts nodded. "Yes sir. Turney's in interrogation right now. We've isolated the source of the disturbance." At Chapel's raised eyebrow, the man continued. "There was some yelling. The Hephastens were throwing themselves into the walls and at the shield. They calmed down after we stunned a few of them, but Turney thought we should call you down, sir, just in case."

"Thank you, gentlemen." Chapel looked down the hallway toward the interrogation rooms. "Let me know if anything changes out here."

Ensign Turney, a competent security officer, was waiting for Chapel outside Interrogation B. She was leaning up against the wall, still in full dress uniform like the rest of the crew. Turney came off the wall as Chapel approached.

"Sir." Turney opened. "We found the instigator. All I've been able to get was rank, serial number, and a request for a commanding officer. He's not going to talk to me, and there's not another lieutenant aboard this ship who can walk, so I requested your help first thing."

"How long have you been questioning him?"

Turney snorted. "Five minutes. I know a futile effort when I see one. Why waste time and energy when you can get to the root of the problem quickly?"

Chapel considered the situation. The soldier inside had started a riot. He hadn't responded to Turney's approach, but Chapel didn't know why for certain. _Maybe he'll respond to a different tactic. Maybe he'll respond to gold stripes._

"I've got an idea." Chapel began. "Do you have a phaser rifle nearby?"

"I will be right back."

The metal doors opened with a swish that was a little less than intimidating. _We'll have to remedy that._ Chapel thought as she eyed her prisoner. The Hephasten was shorter than she'd expected, but with a sturdier build than most she had seen in the transporter room. He was seated at a clean metal table with his arms in stasis cuffs behind his back. He seemed ordinary enough. Chapel wondered what made him significant. A marked difference between this man and the others though, was the red blood splattered on the front of his uniform. _Oh, you picked the wrong day to start a riot, bud._ Chapel braced herself mentally. There was a certain element of theatre to all this. Despite her sudden urge to beat the snot out of the soldier herself, she had to keep aloof. She couldn't let her emotions get to her. But, that didn't mean she couldn't make an impression.

"Turney. Deck him." To her great satisfaction, she managed to get the order out in a tone so flat, she could've passed as a Vulcan.

The Ensign swung the butt of her phaser rifle. The soldiers' helmets had been confiscated along with their weapons, so the blow went home quite well. The Hephasten's head smacked down on the table in front of him. A few drops of pastel yellow blood dripped onto the metal surface.

"Wow, ensign, you whacked him nicely. Got his nose caught in the crossfire." Chapel broke into an elaborate grin. She didn't know much about interrogations, only what she'd seen in the movies or learned in the most basic Starfleet training. _The best thing I can do is keep him off balance and hope Turney can play the straight man._ She sat down across the table from her prisoner. Chapel clasped her hands in front of her and leaned her elbows on the table.

"Hi there. I'm the Acting Captain. How'ya doing?" It was a stretch, but she was going to go with whatever got her some answers.

The soldier stared back at her with a confused expression.

"The Federation doesn't have female Captains…" It was true, but he said it with less certainty than he could have. Chapel had found something of an opening.

"Surprised? That's ok." She shifted her facing towards Turney. " _Was he this slow earlier?"_ She whispered, well aware that her captive could hear every word. " _How hard did you really hit him?_ " A low growl sounded from the other side of the table. Chapel did her best not to smirk.

"I am unsure… Captain." Turney replied. "He would only tell me his rank and serial number. I can't tell if he actually knows any more than that."

 _Well played, Turney._ Chapel thought as the prisoner stiffened in his chair. _We've identified a weakness._

"Well then…" She faced the Hephasten again. "What do you know? Who's your superior officer? Maybe I don't want to talk to somebody of your rank. How about you help me find somebody important to talk to?"

The Hephasten snarled. "I am _Optio!_ I lead the seventy men! There are few of my rank and fewer still above me!"

Chapel leaned back in her chair, a bored expression on her face. "Spare me the rant, Optio. What I want to know is: who's your boss? Is there a diplomat I can talk to? I want to get a read on your political situation before I burn your city to the ground." _Just keep him off balance. Tell him whatever will make him crack._

The Optio actually looked shocked. "Burn…? You will not. Your crew is there. Your commanding officers."

"Oh, really, Optio? I know where my crew is. Most of them are holed up in a bunker outside the city. Now, I don't know if you're aware, Optio, but bunkers are underground. We could fire phasers on…" She exchanged a glance with Turney. "Mmm, thirty percent power and raze the city. There won't be much rubble, just lots of ash, so it should be pretty easy to find the bunker's entrance."

The Hephasten had gone pale. "You would not destroy the innocents…"

"Innocents?" Chapel scoffed, "You're likely all in this together. I've received reports. Remember that Ensign you forced into contacting the Enterprise? He's one of our elite intelligence agents. You had no idea. Completely drawn in. Now," Chapel stood so she was towering over the Optio. There was plenty of menace in her glare. "Before I give you the traditional Starfleet execution for those who assault our officers, why don't you tell me how to contact your betters."

The Optio maintained some dignity. He provided only the answers to her most general questions, but Chapel learned of the actual political setup in Flagratus, as well as the nature of the crew's capture.

"Your officers are imprisoned in the House of Summanus. She is a powerful telepath. It would not do to attack her outright. She would overcome any force with her army of Quaestionarius."

Chapel had a feeling that the Hephasten was exaggerating reports of his army's strengths, but her ears perked up at the mention of a telepath.

"This Summanus has our officers?" She had to be careful not to let any concern into her tone. This Optio wasn't a green ensign. He had likely been trained in counter-interrogation somewhat, although he seemed awfully intimidated by Chapel and Turney. _That's a mystery for later._

"Indeed. She has your Captain and Chief Medical Officer in her power. I would not attempt any rescue. Their condition had likely deteriorated too far for them to be of any use. But, your lieutenants are also there. They have not been touched. If you recover them, they will still be functional soldiers."

Chapel felt a sudden tightness in her chest. _A telepath has Doctor McCoy._ Her brain screamed. _A telepath has them both and this Optio talks about them like resources, not people. Do Hephastens have no compassion? Why, if this Summanus has really hurt them…!_

She couldn't stand to hear this soldier go on about the logistics of warfare.

"Turney. It's time for lights out."

Chapel ignored the Hephasten's frightened protests. Turney took great care in setting the phaser rifle to 'heavy stun' before walloping the soldier.

"That was completely unnecessary."

"I know, sir." Turney acknowledged. "But he deserved it."

"That he did, Ensign. Have your boys drag him to a private cell. Is there one painted yellow?"

Turney smirked. "I'm pretty sure something can be arranged."

Once things were in hand, Chapel stormed off to her Sickbay. She brushed past Morris and made a beeline for Doctor McCoy's office. It was unlocked. Once inside, she remedied that.

Chapel sat heavily in the Doctor's chair. Her head in her hands, she worked on breathing deeply. _I'm not used to command. I'm not used to command. I'm not used to command._ She struggled for another breath. The events of the last couple of hours were catching up to her. Crowley's near escape, then Chekov's, then Kyle's. At this point, Chapel was praying Doctor McCoy would encounter the same kind of miracle. _I hope to God they're all right, all of them._ A terrifying thought sprang unbidden into her mind.

_I don't know if I can do this for another two years on my own._

* * *

 

Captain Kirk alternated between pacing back and forth in front of the bench and attempting to wake McCoy. Neither exertion eased his nerves. He didn't know whether it was exhaustion, anxiety, or inactivity.

"Bones?" He tried for the hundredth time. Doctor McCoy hadn't so much as twitched the whole time Kirk had been in the room. He was becoming more worried by the minute. As far as he knew, Bones had never got along well with telepaths. There was always something, whether it was the agents of Landru, magicians on Pyris VII, or Platonians with a bone to pick.

Kirk was growing more agitated by the minute. He knew Summanus was monitoring them. The windows he had seen earlier were actually one-way mirrors, but he could _feel_ eyes on him. Somebody was watching. Somebody was always watching.

He went back to pacing. Back, forth. Again. _Nothing's changing!_ Kirk weighed the situation in his head. _Spock and Scotty are out on some kind of crazy warrior quest… The Hephasten Velites are invading the ship. Did the_ Enterprise _have any warning? Who exactly is left up there? What did the duty roster look like…?_ He stayed in this same train of thought for a while. Time dragged on.

It must've been hours later when the door slammed open. Kirk jumped. It was Summanus, as well as the guards from earlier. They were rushing him. In a desperate move, Kirk met the wall of soldiers head on. He would fight them to the last man. Or, more likely, until he could no longer stand. They were _not_ going to get Bones. Not on his watch.

The front most soldier threw a punch, which Kirk dodged. The Captain ducked to one side and delivered a double-fisted blow to the soldier's collarbone. The Hephasten staggered. By this time, two more were on him. Kirk threw a wild punch to one, while prepping for a kick to the other's kneecap and trying to block this second man's attack. The plan followed through. With a leg incapacitated, the Hephasten soldier was easy to take down. He had landed a good shot to Kirk's jaw, but two solid hits from the Captain and he was out. Another one of them grabbed Kirk from behind. Kirk struggled, but there was no getting out of the painful grip by sheer force. He surprised the soldier by gripping the hands around his throat tightly. It was a much greater surprise when the situation was flipped, literally. Kirk completed his somersault and pinned the stunned Hephasten with one forearm. The other helped carry a fist into the soldier's nose. Captain Kirk leapt up. A more cautious Velite was approaching from the side. Kirk brought up his fists and prepared to engage, when a voice halted the action.

"Captain! It would serve your interests best to surrender!"

At some point during the fight, Summanus and one of her men had snuck around Kirk. In his distraction, he had failed. A burly Velite had his meaty fist clutched around McCoy's collar. In his other hand… Bones was hanging there, limp as a ragdoll, and not inches away from a gleaming sword. Kirk gulped and dropped his fists. He was momentarily stunned. His brain ceased to focus. Somebody tackled him.

The next thing he was aware of was a pair of women's combat boots tapping near his nose. He was hustled off the ground and over to a vacant ottoman. It worried him extremely that Bones hadn't been woken by any of this. Kirk was flanked by a pair of surly men who had avoided the fight.

"The next time you are visited," Summanus began, "You should endeavor to treat your visitors with more respect. This could have all been avoided. Next time will be different, yes?"

Kirk didn't respond. An elbow attempted to whack his head into gear. That and a good deal of pummeling to his shoulders and ribs. He sat back up slowly. His head spun.

"Yes." He ground out, not taking his eyes off of Bones.

Summanus smirked in satisfaction. "Good. It is a very rude way to treat guests, especially those who come bearing news."

For the first time, Kirk lifted his gaze to Summanus' face. She was observing him carefully, but something else was going on too. Something behind her eyes. She had some information, and it had all the earmarks of bad news.

"We have successfully transported over thirty troops onto your ship. Our Velites are onboard as we speak, stunning or killing your crewmen however they see fit."

Kirk shot out of his seat, but stopped advancing before he could even be restrained. He had seen the silver glint. Now, he saw the first trickle of red. He was already sitting back down when the guards pinned his arms.

"I applaud your self-control, Captain. I expected much less."

It was almost too much. Kirk positively glowered at her. He knew the old saying 'if looks could kill'. He was taking it a step further with 'if looks could draw, quarter, and fling into a broiling pit of acid to die in slow agony'.

"But no matter. To my point: You are beaten, Captain. It is stupid to resist. But you have always been a little stupid now, have you not?"

Kirk said nothing. He was shaking. Whether it was from exhaustion or fury, he didn't know. Could've been both.

"It is so. You did not suspect a thing when our message was delivered in your Morse code. Nor did you bat an eye when it was deciphered to read in _iambic pentameter_ , I believe is the name of the Old English style."

It was true. Kirk hadn't realized. _What that what Bones meant when he said 'melodramatic nonsense'?_ The revelation must have shown in his face.

"You see now that we have beaten you. These oddities, they were clues. This whole endeavor has been a test of the Federation's intelligence by their best representatives. For who better to represent the fleet than the flagship? And you have failed, miserably, at every turn. I am here to bring you an ultimatum, Captain: Cooperate, or watch your crew suffer and die slowly. Shall I describe to you the Hundred Lingering Deaths?"

Kirk was spared the agony by a noise at the door. He and Summanus turned to see the young serving boy from the lobby enter with a phaser rifle in hand.

"The prisoners are escaping!" He shouted. "Honored Commandant, they are armed and are headed to the Palace! I could not stop them!" True to his word, it seemed, the boy sported a nasty yellowing splotch on his face. "You will be able to stop them if you go now! Do not worry! I am now also armed and I will guard the Starfleet scum with my life!" He hefted the rifle and aimed it at Kirk's heart.

"Very well."Summanus snapped at the guards. They released Kirk and McCoy. The Captain rushed to his friend's side as the entire party save one Velite exited. The lone Hephasten soldier murmured instructions to the boy, who nodded and took up a position outside the open door.

Kirk dropped to his knees next to McCoy. There was a thin red line running about half the length of the Doctor's throat. It wasn't deep at all, barely a paper cut, but it scared Kirk half to death. He was nearly at his wit's end. His crew was in peril, possibly dead or dying, and most of them were unaccounted for off in a Hephasten bunker. He was starting to shudder. A fresh wave of anxiety swept over him. It was strange, how on edge he was. _Usually I can handle this! I've been through worse,_ he scolded himself. _Pull it together, man! Pull it together…_ It didn't help in the slightest. Whatever this feeling was, it had gotten out of his control.

To make matters worse, a sudden blast echoed in the hall behind him.

* * *

 

Lieutenants Uhura and Palmer had been locked in the same room for going on five hours. When they had reported to the small inn for the night, they had been shown their room first thing. But, they hadn't expected the kindly innkeeper to lock the door and throw away the key.

Palmer was sitting cross-legged on one of the beds while Uhura sat on the floor. They had already tried ramming the door, evidenced by several bruises and a broken chair, but had found that is was reinforced. Second, they had tried to pick the lock with some of Palmer's hairpins, but now all of them lay broken and twisted on the floor.

Neither of them knew where Lieutenant Farrell or Chief Freeman were, though they presumed it was a similar set-up to this. No one had come back around since they had been locked up. Uhura had made sure they were prepared for that eventuality, however. A few of the broken chair legs now lay within arm's reach. They would make excellent clubs if the need arose.

Palmer was starting to doze, Uhura noticed. Her eyes kept drooping, and sometimes she would list to one side or the other before righting herself with a jolt. It had been a long day for both Lieutenants. There had been linguistics work for Uhura: the deciphering of the Hephasten language, which was seldom used around any outsider, friend or foe. Some of the diplomatic councilmen were aiding in her efforts, but none of them seemed too keen to help. Uhura had thought she'd understood where they were coming from. It wasn't every day that a strange group of people invaded your home city, whether it was for good or ill. She now understood that it was an effort to keep the crew in the dark about their real plans.

Palmer, as Uhura had learned, acted as a runner between the Medical and Command teams. As an officer, she had the ability to not only relay the necessary information, but make decisions and act on new Intel as needed. Lieutenant Palmer had been primarily responsible for the efficient delivery of medical supplies to each of the three field hospitals. She had made sure routes were clear before the trucks left the warehouses. She kept track of dwindling inventories and calculated the opportune times for resupplying.

All of this, as Uhura knew, was draining. And Palmer had been flagging when they walked into the hotel. The extra five hours of stress were taking their toll.

"Elizabeth?" Uhura tried. "Liz?"

Palmer's head snapped up from where it was lolling on her shoulder. Almost instinctively, she reached for the nearest chair leg.

"Liz, it's all right. No one's here," Uhura soothed. "It's just me."

All the fire seeped out of Palmer's stance. She was still tightly wound, but there was a tiredness on her features that Uhura felt she should have noted hours ago.

"Sorry, Nyota." Palmer sighed. "I'm beat. I think everyone's beat. This is a mess."

Uhura managed a smile for her friend. "I know, Liz. I'm just about ready to drop. But, no offense hon, you look more than half dead yourself. I can take a watch if you'd like a quick cat-nap."

Relief blossomed on Palmer's face. "I would love it, Nyota. Wake me in half an hour, or if you hear anything before then. But, you're next, I promise. You need the sleep as much as I do. Probably more. Sure you don't want to go first?"

At this, Uhura actually laughed. "I saw you drifting off up there. Go ahead. Take a snooze. I'll let you know if anything changes."

"Will do. And I'll keep this bat under my pillow too, just in case."

Uhura chuckled, and Palmer practically threw herself back on the little cot. Within moments, she was asleep.

Uhura jolted upright at the sudden sound. With a start, she realized that she had fallen asleep on the floor. Someone was coming down the hallway. She had heard a door slam.

" _Palmer!"_ she hissed, poking her cellmate with a chair leg. Palmer leapt up from the cot, club at the ready. She saw Uhura looking at the door urgently. Then Palmer heard it too: _footsteps._ The Lieutenants exchanged a glance and moved toward the door. The footsteps were almost to the door. Uhura took the left side of the door and Palmer backed up against the wall on the right. The noise stopped. Palmer was gripping her chair leg tightly, clenching and unclenching her fingers around one end. Uhura was ready as well. As impulsive as this plan was, it had a chance. The element of surprise might be on their side, as well as the fact that there was only one set of footsteps.

_Please don't be a big guy. Please don't be a big guy._

The door opened a hair. "Please do not attack me." A small voice whispered through the crack. Surprised and slightly alarmed, Uhura stepped back and flung the door all the way open. It was just a little boy, holding a phaser rifle and a tray of food.

"Please." He said again, slightly louder, "I am here to help you escape. May I come in?"

Uhura nodded dumbly and let the boy pass. After a few moments of shocked silence, she found her voice again. "Who are you? What's going on out there?"

The little Hephasten set the tray down on one of the cots. Palmer moved to investigate, and was pleased to find a couple of purple sandwiches stacked neatly under the tray cover.

"Please, help yourself. I hope it is enough."

"Oh," Palmer nearly cackled, "It's absolutely wonderful!" She picked up a sandwich and nearly inhaled the thing. The boy turned to Uhura to answer her question.

"My name is Aulus Valerius and I am here on behalf of my clan and my uncle. Do you know the man Horatius?"

Uhura blinked. "Horatius?" She turned to Palmer. "Isn't Doctor McCoy's middle name 'Horatio'?" Palmer chewed furiously on her overlarge bite of sandwich and swallowed before responding.

"I don't know. Never asked. Hey, Nyota, you gotta try these. I've never had purple bread, but man it is to die for!"

Uhura noticed the boy Aulus looking at her.

"You are friends with the Doctor McCoy?" He inquired.

Uhura nodded. "Yes. Doctor McCoy is my friend. How do you know him?"

Aulus smiled and held out a bandaged arm. Uhura hadn't paid much attention to the boy's appearance until now. She noticed he had several bandages; all of them clean if not new, and he was wearing an apron.

"Doctor McCoy bandaged my arms and my leg and my head." He responded. "He was also very kind. My clan is attempting to repay this kindness while we overthrow the Queen."

"The… uh… Queen?" Palmer phrased eloquently. "I thought this was a Republic. Oh. Oh!" She looked to Uhura while grabbing a third sandwich. "I bet that's what this is all about! This whole song 'n dance about the senators, and all the citizens being real quiet the whole time! I noticed it when I was helping route medical supplies. They were real tight-lipped about the government, history… Anything to do with politics or the way things're run around here- nobody'd talk about it! That's their game, Nyota! They're being found out, the monarchy, and they're trying to get us outta the way! I guess whatever they're planning benefits from a hostage starship crew. Am I on base with this?" The last question was directed at Aulus, who responded in the affirmative. Palmer nodded in turn and took a bite out of her sandwich.

Uhura, who was following this whole series of events at a slower pace questioned Aulus again. "What is this Queen planning? Can you tell me why they're locked us all up here? Do you know what the monarchy intends to do with us, or where our Captain is?"

Aulus refocused his attention on Uhura. "The Queen," he began, "intends to invade your Federation using your starship. My uncle has informed me that this is a very poor plan, but that much damage can be caused whether she succeeds or not. You are imprisoned as hostages, but also as, how to say, equipments...? If the Queen's mind-readers can locate the weakest of you and convince them that helping would be best for your friends' safety, then she will use those people to help pilot the ship back to your home world. My uncle Horatius works in the palace, and he says that there is a plan to stop the Queen's army before they get all the way on to the ship. But, you have a part to do, and that is why I have come. Please, eat something before you have to leave." He gestured to the plate of sandwiches, which was rapidly disappearing under Palmer's unwavering guard.

Uhura grabbed one and asked her last question. "So, we're going to escape. Aren't there any guards on duty?"

Aulus shook his head. "There will not be. And I have already stunned the man from the hallway. He is currently stuffed inside of a closet where he will raise no alarms. Please, try the columella. I prepared it myself." Aulus pointed at a salad-like dish of blue and red 'greens'. Uhura went straight to work on it. Toiling all day in the heat while in full dress uniform did something to a person's appetite. While the Lieutenants ate, Aulus explained more of the plan.

"My uncle made sure I knew the whole plan before I left." He opened with confidence. "You are to gather your other friends, head to the secret bunker, and rescue your crew! There are some people from my clan inside the bunker already. One is my grandfather, the surgeon, and the other is my cousin who is in disguise as a guard." Aulus went on. "They will work together to free some of your officers, who will then ensure that all of your crew works together. Once you arrive, you can lead everyone back to your ship, where they will be safe. The Flagratian city does not control any spaceships. Those are all far away in Humusian, where I am from."

Uhura took all this is as she chewed her blue lettuce. It seemed simple enough: Rescue Farrell and Freeman, rally the crew, and escape to the Enterprise. But, having eaten her fill of purple bread, Palmer raised a good point.

"Won't we need weapons or something? I'm pretty sure I saw armed guards whenever there was a diplomatic figure anywhere near one of the crew."

Aulus nodded. "That is why I have stolen these!" He produced two phasers and a communicator from underneath his apron. "I could only hide three things on my belt, and I decided that the guns will be more useful to you. But, also you will need your communication box. So I stole it instead of the third gun." He handed a phaser to Uhura and then passed the other to Palmer, who was diving into the mixed salad with gusto. "Your friends are down the hall two rooms." Aulus explained, passing a set of brass keys to Uhura. "Run quickly out of the building. My uncle is waiting for you on the third house on the left side of the street. He will take you and your friends to the secret bunker." Uhura took the keys and nodded to Aulus.

"Third house. Your uncle Horatius. I think I've got it. Palmer, are you ready?"

Palmer nodded and picked up the tray, which was significantly lighter than when it had entered. "Let's take this along in case Farrell and Freeman are hungry. And if they aren't… Well, you know what they say, 'Never pass up a free meal'."

The Lieutenants took off down the hallway. Aulus paused in the doorway before picking up a chair leg. He had his own show to put on, after all.

* * *

 

At the blast, Kirk leapt to shield the doctor with his body. He listened, tense, but there were no consecutive sounds besides one heavy _thud._ Slowly, he uncurled himself from his protective position and turned to face the doorway. On the threshold, that same boy, Aulus, stood. He was holding a smoking phaser rifle. The Velite soldier lay on the ground.

"I have hit him with the heavy stun!" The boy declared from the doorway. "The coast is clear!"

" _Thank the Lord!"_

The voice startled the living daylights out of Kirk. He spun around wildly, half responding to the voice and half to the sudden movement next to him. Leonard McCoy, fully awake and well, sat up on the ottoman next to him.

"Jim, I'm glad t'see you." He drawled. "That was the best nap I've ever had, but let me tell you: fakin' unconsciousness is nearly the hardest thing I've ever done. When that fella had his sword on me…" He paused to chuckle. "I was plum surprised he didn't see me sweat." McCoy smiled at Kirk. When he got a real look at his Captain, his expression dropped.

"Hey kid. Aulus. Can you grab a couple bandages from somewhere? And my tricorder- that black box on th' strap- if you can find it." Aulus nodded and shuffled off to complete his task. McCoy turned a clinical eye back onto his Captain, who was strangely quiet.

"Jim, it looks like you've had a rougher time of it than me. Did they hit you too hard anywhere? Please tell me you didn't go and provoke yourself some internal bleedin'?" McCoy tried to make light of his speech. Kirk's face was slack. Slowly, it began working up an expression. A muscle twitched. McCoy was taken completely by surprise when Kirk's arms shot out from by his sides. The breath was knocked out of the doctor's lungs, such was the sudden ferocity of the Captain's hug.

"Jim…" McCoy managed to gasp out after a moment, "What's happenin'…?"

Jim was shaking. _Something's very wrong here._ McCoy realized. _What's gotten into Jim? He's usually a tougher nut to crack. I don't suppose that Summanus character tried any-_

He stopped short in his musings when he figured it out.

"Why, Jim!" He exclaimed, rubbing a hand across his friend's shoulders. "I had no idea it'd affect you. What you must've been feelin'…" When the Captain's grip didn't release, McCoy knew what had to be done. He gathered his arms around his friend's shoulders and hugged him back.

"She's been broadcasting anxiety, Jim." He explained quietly. "I didn't think it'd have any affect on you, not since you 'n Spock are always talkin' 'bout Vulcan hoodoo rituals and whatnot. I thought the green-blooded hooligan had given you some more practical telepathic advice. Summanus was sendin' out waves of unsettling thoughts, anxious feelings that your brain picked up on subconsciously. It's like when you read somethin', or smell somethin' and think of an old memory that's completely unrelated, but your brain's linked up somehow. Well, your brain linked up alright… Jim? Jim, look at me. How're you feelin'?" McCoy grabbed Jim's shoulders and eased him into an upright position. He wasn't crying or in hysterics, that much made McCoy breathe easier. But, there was an unsettling look in the Captain's eyes that set the doctor's instincts off.

"Jim?"

He met McCoy's gaze. "Bones…" He began quietly. "I don't know about any telepathic waves. I don't know much about telepaths in general. I just know that when I saw you in there, you didn't move. You weren't yourself. You were in the power of a telepath and something had gone _wrong, Bones!"_ His hands came up and grabbed the doctor's arms. "You weren't moving. Not… doing anything. I thought it was Halka all over again. I thought it would never happen, not on my watch. And… it could have, Bones. It could have, and I was powerless to stop it."

McCoy watched the emotions cycle across Jim's face as he spoke. McCoy knew the incident Jim was referring to. He'd been a changed man after coming back from that other universe. They had all changed, somewhat. McCoy remembered those first few days trying to shake off the effects of the meld and failing. He'd finally wandered drunk into his office one night to find Nurse Chapel waiting to talk to him. After he'd explained everything, it took some time since he was intoxicated and emotionally compromised, Chapel called Spock in for an impromptu counseling session. McCoy hadn't been too keen on the idea. Not keen at all, in fact. He'd needed the additional assistance of Captain Kirk just to let Spock into the room. After that, it had been messy, but McCoy came out of that session a better man, both mentally and emotionally. For those first days back, he'd been silent, sullen, and solitary, much to the distress of Jim and the others. He could only imagine what kind of ideas Jim had gotten as that same scenario played out a second time, but with more dangerous variables. _That, coupled with all the extra anxiety,_ McCoy mused, _must've done a number on poor Jim's head. He's stressed, exhausted, and pretty beat up. The man needs a vacation, pronto._

"Jim." McCoy tried after a minute. "I am so sorry."

Jim blinked, quite confused about where this apology had come from.

"Look, I know it's been rough for you with me sleepin' on the job and that witch not makin' things any easier…" He paused for a breath. "And I honestly had no idea it'd scare you so bad. Heck," he chuckled, "I thought you'd see right through it, play along or somethin'. I guess in hindsight, you had too much on your plate already to add in any extra playacting." McCoy sighed. "What I guess I'm tryin' to say is, I'm sorry for worryin' you Jim. I shoulda let you know from the get-go that I was alright."

Jim sat there for a moment, not moving or saying anything. McCoy was starting to get worried that he'd shut down again, when suddenly Jim let out a very long, healthy laugh.

"Bones…" He said during a breath, "Bones you clever son-of-a-gun. I don't know how you did it, but you managed to fool those guards, you managed to fool Summanus, _a telepath_ , and you managed to fool me, your best friend. After all that, I can definitely forgive you. Any trick that'll get us off this blasted rock is worth the heartache. But, you'll have to tell me how you did it sometime."

McCoy laughed. "It's all thanks to that hobgoblin, really. I _will_ tell you the whole thing later, but right now, I hear the patter of little Hephasten feet. Let's get you bandaged up right quick before we set out on our rescue mission."

Kirk's eyebrows shot up as Aulus returned with the supplies. "Rescue mission? Who're we rescuing, Bones?"

McCoy's lips twitched into a grin. He took the tricorder from Aulus and started his scan. "Why, we're rescuing Scotty and Spock, if they haven't already been rescued. It's been a couple of hours. You got any new word on that, kid?"

"My cousin Sergius Evandrus has sent word. He says his brother Mercus has finished the rescue. That is why we are acting now. Your friends are safe from the Forge and from the Velites for now. They are going to meet us near the hidden power station under the Cornelian Mountains. We must go soon, because it will not take Summanus long to find some more Velites to send back here. I can only shoot so many. The rifle gun is heavy and my arms are getting tired."

Jim and Bones helped each other to their feet. McCoy wobbled a little bit after having been still for so long, but he had his best friend there to keep him upright. It was at Jim's insistence that McCoy get a bandage for his throat.

"That way," Jim said, gesturing to the white cloth wrapped around his forehead, "We'll match."

"I don't know if your idea of friendship bracelets is anything less than terrible, Jim." McCoy groused. "But I suppose it's better than walkin' around with an open wound. Although, if you ever get that headband idea passed on to Spock…"

"You'll be the first one to see it, Bones." Kirk said as they followed Aulus out of the back rooms. Jim ended up taking up the phaser rifle from the weary boy, but found his arms were shaking too much to aim it properly.

"Lemme take that off your hands, Jim." McCoy said, confiscating the rifle. "I've had a good deal more sleep than you have. All this runnin' around's startin' to affect your muscles." He knew Jim was at the edge. Directing the conversation away from the Captain's frayed nerves was really the best thing.

"But Booones…" Jim whined. He was grateful for the dodge and played along.

"I know, I know, it's a neat toy, but when we're tryin' t'set our crosshairs in the driving wind dead-smack in the middle of a sandstorm, don'tcha think shaky arms would be a thing to avoid?"

Kirk nodded glumly and put on his overcoat. Although, he did trust McCoy as much as Spock with that rifle.

"Good." McCoy donned his own overcoat and fastened his scarf. "We better get going. I hear there's an invasion on."

 


	12. Chapter 12

The truck jolted again. The fierce winds were bashing the back and sides as the vehicle made its way down the mountain. Sergius Evandrus, Merces' brother, had arrived instead of his cousin only a few hours after the trio had made their escape from the Great Forge. The rocky outcropping had provided enough shelter to keep both the sandstorm and the Velites from reaching them, thankfully. Sergius had come instead of Horatius Valerius because of some development in the city. Either way, Sergius was here with the truck, and he informed them of the new plan: Drive down the mountain to the hidden power station that powered Queen Avilius' electromagnetic device and disarm it.

"Simple enough." Scotty scoffed, "And how exactly are we gon' to do that?"

Sergius had outlined the plan, which involved the Captain and Doctor McCoy, much to their stranded shipmates' delight. They would meet up with their friends outside the power station and launch a concentrated attack.

Spock had stopped Sergius there and presented an alternative plan. "It would present a far smaller risk," he had proposed, "to simply contact our ship and have the _Enterprise_ fire on the station."

Sergius had been confused, shocked, and enamored with the new plan. They had discussed weather patterns and sources of interference, but in the end decided it wouldn't be an issue at the station that always got through to Flagratus.

"If Queen Avilius can receive reports from them, regardless of the time," He reasoned, "then surely we will be able to find a way of contacting your ship."

After that, they had simply set off.

The two brothers were riding in the front, while Spock and Scotty were seated on a metal-barred bench behind some crates and cargo in the back. It would be less suspicious, they figured, if the Starfleet men were never seen, as opposed to posing as prisoners to any potential roadblock guards.

The truck hit another rut and both Spock and Scotty were thrown.

"It's intolerable, tha's what it is!" Scotty grumbled as he picked himself up in the near total darkness. "Ah've been in shuttle crashes smoother than this!" He shot a wry look at Spock who probably couldn't pick out the expression. Spock's face shifted into what Scotty could only assume was an eyebrow quirk.

"In this case, Mister Scott, I am inclined to agree. The terrain was reported to be particularly treacherous in the mountain regions. I am beginning to wonder if we are currently driving on a road at all."

Scott had to laugh at that. "It certainly seems like it."

For the first time since this strange adventure started, Scotty felt comfortable. It wasn't the actual conditions that lent to this feeling so much as his decreasing nervousness in the company of Spock. True, the _Enterprise's_ First Officer was imposing for several reasons. His stoic Vulcan exterior and devotion to logic could be intimidating, especially to a shorter fellow who spent more time in Engineering than he did getting to know his shipmates. Not that Scotty wasn't sociable, per se. He would greet everyone with a smile or at least a polite good morning/evening/the concept of time in space is purely relative.

Spock was a different case. Scotty figured that the Vulcan was the smartest person he'd ever met. He could do complex formulas, probabilities, even whole systems of equations almost instantaneous and _in his head_. Scotty marveled at the brainpower required to do it all and still be able to carry on a conversation on just about anything.

To top it off, Spock could go toe-to-toe with the acid tongue of Doctor McCoy and come away victorious more often than not. Spock could be the galaxy's greatest diplomat, scientist, anything. The Captain trusted his advice. Scotty found it incredible.

And here this marvel was, talking and, surely not _joking,_ with _him._ Scotty was delighted.

"In any event," Spock began again, "It should not take longer than half an hour for us to reach the power station. We will be able to ascertain the condition of the Captain and of Doctor McCoy…" He trailed off.

"Do y'think they'll be alright, Mister Spock?"

Spock was silent for a moment. "It depends on the strength of this telepath, Summanus. If she is truly as formidable as we have been told, then I am… concerned for Doctor McCoy's safety. I do not believe Summanus would harm the Captain. It would not be in her best interests to do so. The Captain is a valuable bargaining chip. As for the Doctor…"

"And if she's not how they said?" Scott cut in hopefully.

"If she is not the great telepath that they claim, Doctor McCoy may be able to outwit her."

"How so?"

"After the… incident during our orbit around Halka, I instructed Doctor McCoy is several mental exercises both as part of his psychological treatment and as a safeguard for potential threats in the future. He will not be able to resist direct contact telepathy, or the will of a very powerful individual, but, if the telepath in question is inexperienced or weak enough, he should be able to construct a mental façade that will confuse telepathic energies seeking to influence him. This is all possible _because_ of his frequent contact with more powerful telepaths. If a psi-null individual is exposed to enough telepathic energy, they may be able to retain some aspects of the power themselves. As far as my calculations and examinations have reported, Doctor McCoy possesses 1.3% of the ability of the average Vulcan."

"Ah'm not entirely sure what that means, Mister Spock, but 1.3% doesnae seem like a lot."

Spock blinked. "It is enough."

Scotty paused, considering. "Ah hope you're right."

"It is probable."

Scotty cracked a smile. "Aye, that it is." The truck lurched. Scotty slid into the side of a crate and Spock became more familiar with the floor. Over the ringing in his ears, Scotty could hear an odd squealing noise. _That, coupled with th' slight parallel motion…_ He didn't have time to think. Scotty grabbed the bench with one hand, and a fistful of Spock's tunic with the other. The metallic squeal rose to a sickening screech. The crates became airborne. Many flew sideways while one slammed to the floor where Spock's head used to be.

Another jolt, a shift to the left, and the truck was righted again. Scotty hissed out a long breath as they came to a stop. Spock shifted slightly and was quickly released.

"Are ye alright, Mister Spock?" Scotty asked, sitting up.

"I am unharmed I believe, Mister Scott, because of your quick intervention."

Scotty blushed. Fairly certain that Spock couldn't tell, he kept his voice even. "It was nuthin', Mister Spock. Just the instincts that come with keepin' your footing without bein' able t'see the road, so to speak." Spock nodded. More often than not, he was on the bridge during times of turbulence and could see the source of any sudden course changes or impacts.

"I must express my gratitude, in any case. I have… recently become aware that humans are more accustomed to this social triviality than Vulcans."

"Erhm… You're welcome, Mister Spock." Scotty turned a shade redder in the darkness. He was pretty sure he knew where _that_ had come from.

There were twin thuds from the front of the truck.

"They are departing."

Scotty scrambled off the bench and started for the back hatch. Spock moved more silently to follow him. As they neared the exit, the door swung open. A gust of stinging sand rose to meet them. Scotty threw up his gloved arm to deflect the flying particles. Shadows moved just outside the door. He felt the truck shift with the addition of another person. Standing in front of him was a man clad all in black. His face was covered by a rough scarf, and to Scotty's dismay, he had a steady grip on a phaser rifle.

" _Scotty!"_ The rifle was propped quickly against the side of the truck. Scotty was still stunned silent when Doctor McCoy threw off his scarf and bounded forward.

"Doctor McCoy? You're alive!" He managed after a moment.

"Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be? I'm more surprised that you're alive. How'd you survive the volcano with only an arm and a half?"

"Mister Scott had help, Doctor." Spock loomed out from the shadows in that peculiar way of his.

"Long time no see, Spock." McCoy greeted. "That Vulcan physiology of yours beat whatever it was they slipped int' th' water?"

"Indeed, Doctor. I trust you are whole? We received word that you and the Captain were being held by a telepath."

From his close proximity, Scotty could see McCoy's face fall slightly. "You'd be correct, Spock. She had me worried there for a minute when she ambushed me. Managed to get her claws on me b'fore I knew what was happenin'. I woke up a bit later and she was still broadcastin', so I did like y'taught me and put up a little shield. Took all my concentration, too. Summanus wasn't a powerful telepath, but somebody taught her well. I didn't even get a chance to break character for Jim until she was gone."

"Speaking of the Captain, Doctor-"

"Yeah, I was wondering when we'd get t'that." McCoy cut Spock off. "He's takin' a breather in the cab. Summanus had 'im on edge the whole time. Speaking of, Spock, these Hephasten telepaths are an interesting sort. Almost half-empath if you catch my drift."

Spock made a noncommittal noise. "Interesting. This requires further study. Perhaps a more competent research crew than the members of the _Doyle_ expedition could be sent to conduct a proper study. Doctor, if I may-"

"Alright, Spock. Go check on Jim. I know you're itchin' t'get over there, and I was gonna ask you inna minute anyhow. He needs mental support more'n' anything else."

The truck swayed again as Spock exited. Doctor McCoy turned back to the Chief Engineer.

"How's the wrist, Scotty?"

Scott sighed. He knew this wasn't going to be a pleasant conversation. "We had to do quite a bit o' climbing in th' Forge, Doctor."

McCoy didn't say anything for a moment. Finally, with an exasperated noise, he spoke up. "It needs some time to heal, Scotty."

"Ah know that, Doctor!" He nearly shouted. In a calmer tone, he continued, "Ah've been doin' my best but isnae somethn' Ah can do a lot about just now! Between runnin' from soldiers and tryin' not t'fall off cliffs, it's been rough. Ah'd say Ah'm feelin' it too. The biobrace isnae doin' its job as well as ye'd have me believe."

McCoy grumbled some and grabbed Scotty's glove. "'S prob'ly 'cause 'ybroke the danged thing." Gently as he was able, McCoy removed the thick glove and tried to examine the brace. "You got a light, Scotty?" The Scotsman shook his head and then remembered. "No, Ah don't. Sorry." McCoy growled something else and then retreated from the cargo bed with a curt "Hold on a sec."

So, Scotty stood there. He found the edge of the brace in the dark and started rubbing the sore section where the stiff material met his hand. After a minute, McCoy came back wielding a small orange light.

"Gimme your good hand and hold this." Scotty took the light and tried to shine it in the right direction. The sand wasn't blowing so hard anymore. Scotty hoped that meant the storm was dying down, but he didn't want to get his hopes up.

"How does it look, Doctor?"

McCoy made a humming noise and turned Scotty's wrist over again. "Uh-huh. Welp, it's official. Looks like you done sprained it well 'n good. It'll be more'n' a few days light work before I'd clear you for full duty now. You're lucky it isn't broken what with all you 'n Spock've been doin' tonight." McCoy put a hand on Scotty's shoulder. "You sure you're doin' alright?" He asked with some sincerity.

Scotty peered through the darkness at McCoy. From what he could tell, it had been just as much of a wild night for the doctor as it had been for him. McCoy looked haggard in the orange glow. He was wearing a Hephasten storm coat and a terribly uncomfortable looking scarf. There was sand in his hair and all over his clothing.

"Ah'm doin' as well as can be expected, Doctor." Scotty managed a small smile. "Ah'll be fine so long as we can get back to the ship. Ah know Nurse Chapel's dyin' t'see us. She sounded a bit flustered a couple of hours ago, t'be honest, an'-"

McCoy jumped and grabbed Scotty's other shoulder. " _'Chapel said_ '? Scotty! When did you talk to her? What about the invasion?"

Scotty blinked in surprise at the outburst. "Just an hour or two ago, Doctor! She told me they'd repelled the invasion force and locked the intruders in the brig. Said they'd got screens up t' 98 percent as well! Ah'm gonna have t'go see for myself how they did it, but it's still an impressive-" To Scott's further dismay, Doctor McCoy threw back his head and laughed, still not letting go of the engineer's shoulders. Scotty became more uncomfortable when McCoy pulled him into a hug.

"Can you believe it, Scotty? They did it! Chapel and the rest of 'em stopped an entire invasion! What, did we leave 35 people up there?"

"About that many, Doctor." Scotty spoke flatly into McCoy's shoulder. "If ye'd be so kind as to let me go, we'd be able t'go tell the Captain the good news." They ploy worked and Scott was released.

"You're right! Jim doesn't know the good news! Summanus talked it up like their guys'd slaughtered the crew! Let's go tell 'im. He'd feel a lot better knowin' his crew is safe."

Scotty breathed an enormous sigh of relief as they exited the cargo bed and trudged around to the front of the truck.

Merces and Sergius Evandrus were standing outside the driver's side door. They were holding a casual conversation until McCoy and Scott showed up.

"Ah, the Doctor and the Chief Engineer join us." Sergius boomed over the storm. His manner since they had met on the mountaintop contrasted greatly from the mannerisms of the messenger Scotty had seen in the city. It seemed like everyone in Flagratus was an expert actor. _Then again,_ Scotty mused, _They'd have t'be if they were to avoid the Quaestinarius. Mind readers are tricky like that._

"Hello, Sergius. Merces." McCoy yelled. "We've got some news for the Captain. Mind letting us talk to him?" The brothers quickly parted and McCoy flung open the side door. Inside, Scotty found a curious little scene. The Captain and Mister Spock were talking to each other from opposite sides of the cab, with a young Hepasten boy napping quietly in between them. McCoy cleared his throat and addressed Spock.

"How's it goin' in here, free an' clear from all this blasted sand?"

"It would be 'going' more pleasantly if you were not letting the 'blasted sand' into the cabin, Doctor." Spock quipped expressionlessly. Captain Kirk choked back a laugh as the wind flatted Spock's bangs straight back onto his head.

McCoy turned to his captain "How're you feelin', Jim?"

Kirk smiled, much to McCoy's relief. "I'm doing a lot better, Bones. I just wish we knew what the situation back on the _Enterprise_ is."

"Well, do I have news for you, Jim."

"I do not know, Doctor McCoy. Do you?"

McCoy scowled. "It was a _rhetorical_ question, you green-blooded menace! Oh, quit laughing, Jim, so I can tell you the good news."

The Captain stifled his giggling fit in a very dignified and Captainly manner. "Go ahead Bones, I'm all ears."

McCoy resisted the obvious 'and so are you, Spock' quip, and got straight to the point. "Scotty's just told me he's talked to Chapel in the last couple of hours." Plowing on through Kirk's spluttered " _What?"_ , McCoy continued, "She says they've repelled the invasion. Scotty, tell 'im."

All eyes turned to the engineer. "Um, well, it's true, sir. Ah heard it from Nurse Chapel herself. They've shut down th' transporter, locked up the invaders, an' increased the screens to 98 percent power. It's quite a feat, sir! Ah'd say they're doin' just fine up there."

Kirk's face broke into a wide grin. "Amazing. _Amazing,_ Scotty! Can you believe it, Spock? They did it! They've fought them off!" The Captain began chuckling softly. His chuckles quickly gave way to full-on laughter. At a quiet "Spock…" from McCoy, the Vulcan placed his hand on the Captain's shoulder. Kirk calmed and took a moment to catch his breath.

"He needs stability, Spock. Can you get him back to the ship?" McCoy's quiet request was almost lost to the wind. Spock heard.

"I will do my best, Doctor. Perhaps one of our allies could escort us back to one of the shuttles. The _Copernicus_ and the _Galileo_ are undoubtedly under careful watch, but the later arrivals are likely to have been overlooked."

Scotty nodded. It was sound logic, which was redundant for Spock, really.

"Sounds like a manageable plan." The Scotsman spoke up. "Ah'm sure that Doctor McCoy and I could handle anything that blows our way."

Everyone present ignored the sandstorm pun and McCoy ventured over to the Hephasten brothers to discuss their plan.

"So, who's the wee bairn in the middle seat?"

Spock turned to look at the Hephasten boy. "He is Aulus Valerius, second cousin of our rescuers. According to the Captain, Aulus was instrumental in the rescue of both our fellow officers and ourselves. His entire family participates actively in the anti-monarchy movement in Flagratus."

"Well, then." Was all Scotty could find to say. McCoy marched back over, his boots crunching in the sandy gravel.

"It's a go. Sergius'll drive y'all back to the shuttles and help you take care of any trouble you run into. Lucky thing, too. Y'all'd've been hauled along for the ride if I'd gone an' asked any later. Here, Jim, gimme your coat for Scotty. None of that, now, mister! You'll be ridin' in a nice comfortable truck instead'a hikin' hallway across this forsaken mountain range in th' dead of night!"

Kirk shed his coat and scarf without further argument. He passed the clothes over the sleeping child and into McCoy's arms. The Doctor then helped Scotty get into the heavy coat and showed him how to fasten his scarf. A few moments later, the brothers Evandrus appeared to split the teams. Sergius shook hands with McCoy and Scott before having Spock and Kirk shove over so he could drive.

This left Merces Evandrus, former Velite and experienced rebel with the other two Starfleet men. Scotty was honestly relieved that they'd been left with Merces instead of Sergius. The Velite brother was certainly the larger and tougher looking of the two. Scotty supposed if they were to break into a heavily guarded compound and shut down a device that was supremely important to their enemies, it would be good to have some muscle on hand.

"Are you ready to depart?" Merces inquired after the truck had disappeared into the storm.

Scotty was the first to reply. "Aye. Ready as we'll ever be. Say, Doctor McCoy, that phaser rifle you had earlier-"

"Is in the back of the truck." McCoy finished with a groan.

It was quite the hike to the power station. Despite the general appearance of midnight, Merces Evandrus assured the Starfleet men that it was nearly mid-morning. The sandstorm was blowing strong still, with no signs of letting up.

Eventually, they did arrive. Merces gave the signal to get low. There were miniscule orange lights in the distance, flickering and flashing in the sand-saturated wind.

"That must be it." McCoy called over the wind. "I haven't seen a single light since Jim an' I nearly got hit by your truck." He turned to Scotty. "Y'know it was all I could do to stop Aulus from runnin' right out in fronta the dang thing? Kid's got guts, lemme tell ya."

"We must tread with care." Merces instructed. "This is a crucial part of our plan. The slopes here are treacherous. Many a cadet has broken bone here on a clear day."

"Boy, you're a real comfort." McCoy groused. Scotty simply gulped. He'd had a hard enough time keeping his balance on the way here. Now they were entering an already dangerous area. In the dark. In a _sandstorm_. And he thought yesterday had been a bad day.

"If you follow me, you will be just fine. Probably. This is in the case that you do nothing stupid and follow my instructions."

Scotty nodded and chose to think that comment was directed and the gangly and troublesome doctor, not at his handicapped self. No, he would do just fine if he followed Merces' instructions to the letter.

"Good." Merces started forward. "Come. Step where I step. I know these slopes well."

"An' just how do you know these slopes so well, huh?" McCoy shouted.

"I am a Velite." Merces' voice cut across the wind. "Would a soldier not know well his own home base?"

As the trio trudged across the turbulent wastes, Scotty began pondering Merces' past experiences as a Velite. It was an interesting thing, living as a double agent for so long, turning on your comrades, regardless of how just and noble the cause. He imagined it must be particularly hard for Merces, after seeing how willing the Velite was to aid them in their escape. He was clearly a man of strong character and fierce loyalty. Scotty wondered just how the Velites with different loyalties would take this betrayal.

After several tense minutes of walking, and grumbling on McCoy's part, Merces signaled for the group to stop.

"We are approaching the dangerous zone."

"We weren't _already in it?_ "

"Hush, Doctor!"

"There will be guards posted close to the entrances. We have not encountered any so far because they do not venture this far out in weather like this. What sane person would be out here in a storm like this?"

"What sane person indeed…"

" _Doctor McCoy!"_

"So, we must be absolutely silent from here on. Do you have your communicator, Commander Scott?"

Scotty whipped the little box out of his coat pocket. "Aye, Ah do. I'll start transmitting on your signal."

Merces nodded once. "Good. Not yet, for we must first enter the compound and call for an evacuation."

"Finally, something I can get behind." McCoy spoke p from the back of the little line. "How 'bout we pull the fire alarm or somethin'?"

"I suppose that could have the desired effect…" The Velite considered. "I was going to trigger the… what would you say, radiation alarm? Maybe even release the shields. It will all be destroyed in the end."

McCoy was struck silent for a moment before responding with a lame "Yeah… Guess that'd work too…"

Silently as was possible, the trio approached the flickering lights of the compound. Up ahead, Scotty could pick out the silhouette of a Velite guard by the doorway. Merces motioned for them to crouch behind a rock formation about 30 yards from the door. He turned to Doctor McCoy.

"Strike me. Quickly."

"Excuse me?" McCoy was hard pressed to keep his voice low. "Are you outta your mind?"

"Never _mind_ , Leonard, _Ah'll_ do it!"

One busted lip later, Merces took off running towards the doorway. Scotty and a newly wary McCoy counted to fifteen Mississippi and then began firing their phasers in the general direction of the door. They then began running parallel lines across the expanse, firing at random points to make it appear as if multiple assailants were advancing. They could barely hear Merces' panicked shouts over the wind, but his acting seemed to get the message across to the guard. Starfleet was coming, and they had to assemble the troops.

After the guard disappeared through the doorway, Merces circled back outside to give Scotty and McCoy the signal to move up. They met him under the harsh orange light.

"They are gathering together for an assault. I will go pull the radiation alarm. You go to the room marked with green symbols and signal your ship. Hurry! And be sure to give at least five minutes warning so we will have time to get clear of the building."

They went their separate ways. Scotty quickly located the green-covered door with McCoy right on his heels. Inside, they found charts, reports, and what looked like communications equipment thirty years behind the current industry standard. Scotty flipped open his communicator. McCoy huddled close so he could listen in.

"Scott to _Enterprise. Enterprise,_ do you read?"

A moment of static, then, miraculously through the cloud-cover, " _This is_ Enterprise. _Commander Scott! What's going on down there?"_

The shaky voice belonged to what was undoubtedly a green Ensign. Scott kept going. "Th' Captain and Mister Spock are en route to the shuttles as we speak. They'll give ye a full report once they get there, but we have more pressing matters to attend to. Get phaser locked onto mah location, pronto! We need a leveling barrage on this location in exactly six minutes! Is that clear?"

There was a choked sound from the other end of the connection.

" _Leveling barrage? Sir, are you sure?"_

 _"_ Are ye questioning mah orders, son?"

Another gurgle. " _N-no! No sir! Your coordinates, six minutes, is that right?"_

"Aye, it is , lad. Can ye get Nurse Chapel on the line? Ah've got someone here who needs t' talk with her."

_"_ _Right away, sir. Hold on one second."_

There was a pause, a click, and then Chapel's frantic voice.

" _Scotty? Is that you? What's happening?"_

"Nurse, I think you deserve a medal for all you've had t'put up with so far." McCoy drawled, "Maybe they should just skip it all and make you an Admiral already."

" _Doctor McCoy!"_ The relief in her voice was evident, even over the shoddy connection. " _You're alright. What's going on down there, Len? Why haven't we heard from anyone else? It's been hours since Scotty's last call. We're getting a little anxious up here."_

"You've got nothin' to worry about, Chris. Just make sure those boys on the bridge don't mess anything up. We need you to shoot this position and shoot it hard."

" _We're shooting what?"_

Nurse Chapel's tone sounded more than a little dangerous. McCoy made a motion to cut the call. Scotty quickly intervened.

"Oh, Doctor McCoy, would'ye look at that! We've got to be leavin'. Well, be seein' you, Nurse. Will call when we can!"

" _SCOTTY-"_

The communicator clicked shut.

"Whew. Thanks for savin' my bacon, Scotty." McCoy sighed with relief.

"Isnae any trouble. But, would ye look at the time?" Scotty grabbed the doctor by the arm and dragged him out of the communications room. He continued to drag McCoy down the winding hallways of the compound, the knowledge of his Lady's firepower looming over his head. They only encountered one Velite guard in the entire building, but this one was running for his life as well. Nothing to do here.

They were out the door and into the whirling dawn before a minute-and-a-half was up. They were scrambling up the gravelly incline before thirty seconds to impact. When the leveling barrage hit, Scotty was practically carrying McCoy up the hill. The Doctor had been less coordinated in retreat.

"Scotty! _Scotty!_ You can put me down, now. We're safe." Scotty stopped his single-minded ascent.

"Aah…Sorry Doctor." He released his painful (for both parties) grip on his friend and backed away a few steps.

"Well, now what do we do?" The light from the still-burning compound illuminated the entire hillside. Scotty looked around at the fleeing figures in an attempt to find an answer to McCoy's question.

"Ah can honestly say, Ah don't rightly know."

McCoy snorted. "Gee thanks, Scotty." He sighed after a moment's silence. "I suppose we'd better go find Merces. He'll probably have some sort of a plan."

"Aye, probably." Scott replied, straight-faced. They set off in the direction they'd come from originally.

It was a miracle. Honestly, Scotty had no idea how the ex-Velite had managed it. One minute, the two of them were fighting an uphill battle against the slippery gravel, the next they were nearly run over by the Hephasten equivalent of a pickup truck.

A slightly bloodied face appeared from the driver's side window.

"Climb into the back and hold on! We're heading for Flagratus!"

McCoy and Scott responded instantly. The clambered into the bed of the truck as fast as they were able. Merces hit the gas. McCoy, a displaced Southerner and clearly an old hand at pickup joyriding, rode the waves of turbulence like a pro. Scotty held on for dear life and tried to keep his stomach in check. Luckily for him, he hadn't eaten in several hours. McCoy had the _nerve_ to laugh at Scotty's newly green face.

"I oughta bring you 'round t'visit my cousins in Texas. You'd have a real treat."

"If Ah were less concerned with mah hands bein' in constant contact with this here railing," Scotty yelled, "Ah'd _push you out th' back in a heartbeat!"_

McCoy threw back his head and laughed.


	13. Chapter 13

Nurse Chapel had taken the call from the world's Second Most Exasperating COs from Doctor McCoy's office.

"We're firing on _what?_ " She repeated to herself. _Now might be a good time to go check on the bridge crew,_ She decided. Straightening her dress shirt and smoothing her hair, Chapel departed from Sickbay in a hurry. The march down the hallway was quick, and the turbolift may have been encouraged to 'hurry it up'.

The doors swooshed open to reveal the Bridge, silent with a tenseness centered on the helm.

"What did we just shoot?" A voice called from Mr. Spock's regular station.

"A power plant or the like by the looks of it." Came the Helm's response. Ensign Chekov swiveled in his chair at the sound of the turbolift doors.

"Lieutenant Chapel, sir! Do we have any new orders?" The entire Bridge, it seemed, turned to look at her.

"No, Mister Chekov, although I am curious as to what in the name of all that's holy has gotten into Commander Scott and Doctor McCoy!" She brushed past the pacing Ensign Lewis on the upper level and leaned over the current helmsman's shoulder.

"What's all this about leveling a power station?"

To his credit, the ensign managed to keep his cool under the unwavering intensity of Chapel's glare.

"Well, we received orders from Commander Scott to fire a leveling barrage on these coordinates. There was a time-delay attached, which I can only assume allowed sufficient time for Commander Scott and Doctor McCoy to get clear of the station."

"So, they had you fire on _their_ coordinates?"

"Yes sir."

Chapel turned to Spock's regular spot. "Ensign Haines, are you reading any life signs from that area?"

Haines checked the scanners before responding. "There was a crystal clear signal not ten minutes ago, and now it's as fuzzy as the rest of the city. But, yes, I am reading several life signs clustered outside the plant, sir. Including- wait… There's another power signal in the area. It's weak, but… Sir! I've located Commander Scott's communicator!"

Chapel was around the navigator's console and at the science station in an instant. "Where are they, Haines? How clear is your signal?"

Haines indicated the sensor array. "It looks like two or three life signs. They're headed towards the city, and getting any kind of reading there is almost impossible. That's why it's so hard to tell if it's two or three life signs- Lieutenant. I've lost their signal. They're getting too close to Flagratus."

A small light on the lower left-hand side of the console blinked. There was a beep. Ensign Haines flipped a few switches and examined her view screen.

"Lieutenant, Chapel, sir, there's something approaching the ship. It looks like one of our shuttlecraft!"

Chapel shot backward towards the Captain's chair.  
"Communications, patch me through to that shuttlecraft. I want a clear channel."

"Yes sir!" The ensign got quickly to work.

"This is Lieutenant Chapel of the _Enterprise_ calling shuttlecraft. Shuttlecraft, do you read?"

Silence, and then, " _This is the shuttlecraft_ Born, _Commander Spock piloting. We read you,_ Enterprise."

Chapel breathed a huge sigh of relief. She'd given her name and rank in case it was anyone _other_ than the crew piloting, or perhaps anyone other than the four missing COs. She couldn't afford to take any chances, not after the botched invasion the Hephastens had already tried.

"Thank goodness! Oh, Spock, I thought we'd never hear from you! Is the Captain with you?"

There was a noise Chapel couldn't identify, and then Spock's response. " _Indeed. Although, he is currently unable to join our conversation, darling."_

Chapel went stock-still. _That… That did_ not _just come out of Spock's mouth._ "Spock? Is everything all right?" She asked, incredibly alarmed.

" _Everything is fine, dear. The Captain is merely resting. It has been a wearisome mission, and we have much to catch up on, Christine."_

It was surreal. Chapel was momentarily without a reply. The entire Bridge was staring at her, some with their mouths hanging open, some just blinking in surprise. _This isn't Spock. This isn't Spock at all. If I didn't know any better, I'd say something was terribly-_ She stopped mid-thought. Spock would never talk to _anyone_ like that of his own free will. _So that must mean…_

"I …can't wait to see you again, honey. I'll meet you in the shuttle bay with… with uh…" Chapel scrambled to come up with a code that would alert Spock to her understanding. "With a piping hot bowl of plomeek soup. We can talk about the mission over dinner."

Somebody on the bridge snickered. Chapel's double-edged glare swept the faces. Nobody moved. Nobody made another sound.

" _I shall greatly anticipate it. I will see you in approximately 10.6 minutes. Spock out."_

As soon as the transmission ended, Chapel leapt out of the Captain's chair and began barking orders.

"Red alert, all hands to stations." She nodded to the Ensign at Uhura's usual station. "Have a fully armed security team meet me outside the shuttle bay. And tell them to hurry! I've got some soup to cook…"

Chapel rushed into the turbolift. If it had been pressured to hurry before, now it was being downright threatened.

* * *

 

They had made it to the shuttles. Everything was quiet. It looked like they were in the clear.

The Velites appeared out of thin air.

Sergius Evandrus was no match for the ten? fifteen? soldiers that leapt at them from the darkness. Kirk fought valiantly, but was quickly overpowered. Spock held his own until he was… persuaded to do otherwise. With swords drawn on the Captain and Evandrus, Spock had raised his hands in surrender.

Out from the crowd stepped none other than Optio Tacitus. Spock's eyes narrowed. He need not express his particular… dislike for this man. Not only had the Optio assaulted both his Captain and Mister Scott, but he had been instrumental in this whole deception.

"Do not try to resist. I will order their execution." Tacitus' voice was cold and even. Spock did not doubt his words. To the side, Sergius Evandrus was still struggling against the much larger soldiers.

"I recognize you." Tacitus turned his gaze on Sergius. "You are a messenger. It is unfortunate that you have decided to side with the rebels."

Sergius stilled for a moment before rising to the challenge. "I will fight to my last breath against the queen and everything she is trying to accomplish."

Surprisingly, the Optio chuckled. It was a disconcerting sound. "Then you are fortunate I do not serve the queen. If I owed her any loyalty, I might have you executed here and now."

That was unexpected. "I do not understand. Are you not a ranking officer in the royal guard?" Spock's question was met with more chuckling, this time from all sides.

"You must have just arrived in Flagratus. The news has not yet spread. There has been a coup. Our master has disposed of the queen and now controls the city."

There was silence, save for the howling wind. Spock glanced at his Captain. Kirk's face was creased and pale. Whoever the new leader was, they were obviously not to be trusted with the new government. Despite the apparent illogic of reading a situation based on secondhand emotional reaction instead of hard facts, Spock found that often times human instincts were to be trusted, especially impressions of other individuals. Spock knew that Commander Scott did not trust Tacitus. He knew from Jim's current expression that any new monarch was not an ally in any sense of the word. Therefore, Spock knew that any 'friends of Tacitus' were not 'friends of theirs', to put it colloquially.

"Now, unlock your shuttle. We will proceed to the _Enterprise_ and take over control from our men already onboard."

"Haven't you done enough?" The Captain suddenly shouted. "You've already killed my crew, like you've said. Must we also go to the ship and see the carnage for ourselves?"

Spock was slightly confused. The Captain knew full well that the invasion had been a complete failure. Why would he lead Tacitus to believe otherwise?

The Optio's face twisted into a smirk. "We were going to dispose of you here, once we had unlocked your shuttle, but I like this plan better. Velites! Bind the Captain and the traitor. The Vulcan will pilot the shuttle for us. Move out, everyone!"

 _Ah. So that was Jim's plan._ It seemed that they would all live to see the _Enterprise_ again. _It is rather fortunate that Tacitus is allowing me to pilot the shuttle. Any communications from the ship will be easier to intercept._ Spock reflected on their fortunate circumstances. 'Fortunate' being a strong word, but applicable. They were loaded into the Shuttlecraft _Born_ as soon as Spock had unlocked it. The Captain and Sergius were hustled into the seats furthest back and strapped in. The Velites then removed their sashes to bind the prisoners' wrists.

Optio Tacitus motioned for Spock to take the pilot's chair. The Velite leader sat in the copilot's place, sword in hand.

"Take us to your ship. We are already in possession. Nothing you can _try_ will change that outcome. What you _can_ do is prevent an agonizing death for your Captain. Now, take off. We are delayed long enough as it is."

"Spock! No! Don't worry about us, we-!"

" _Silence him!"_ Tacitus cut off Kirk's outburst with a quiet command. Another Velite removed his sash to comply with his leader's request. "We will have no distractions for our pilot." He kicked his feet up onto the instrument panel and smirked. "Let us be on our way."

Spock started the engines and flew the craft smoothly off the planet's surface. He dared not take his eyes from the controls, lest he ignite Tacitus' considerable rage. _A mercurial individual, to use one of the Terran idioms._ Spock mused, _His mind is changed on a whim, and he exercises even the most minimal logical process with-_

 _"_ _This is Lieutenant Chapel of the Enterprise calling shuttlecraft. Shuttlecraft, do you read?"_

Dead silence in the _Born._ Spock reached to open communications. Tacitus' hand shot out and snatched Spock's wrist.

"What is the meaning of this?"

Spock turned to the Optio and responded coolly. "It appears, Optio, that the invasion has not progressed as you anticipated. I must respond to this hail. It is standard procedure."

"Yes… I see…" Tacitus released Spock's arm slowly. "Secure the Captain! If the Vulcan speaks a word beyond his 'protocol', run the Captain through."

Spock heard muffled exclamations as the Velites pulled Kirk from his chair. He tried to block out the sound as he opened communications to the _Enterprise. Perhaps a_ slight _deviation from protocol may be permissible. We shall see._

"This is the shuttlecraft _Born_ , Commander Spock piloting. We read you, _Enterprise."_

 _"_ _Thank goodness! Oh, Spock, I thought we'd never hear from you! Is the Captain with you?"_

In the back of the shuttle, Kirk's struggle intensified. Noises of protest echoed off the narrow shuttle walls. Spock took a breath. It was now or never.

"Indeed. Although, he is currently unable to join our conversation, darling."

Tacitus arched an eyebrow. Spock turned to him, doing his best impression of Doctor McCoy's 'face of begrudging acceptance' and shrugged. Tacitus' glared deepened for a moment, then cleared.

"I did not think you they type, Vulcan." Was his only comment.

 _"_ _Spock? Is everything all right?"_ Nurse Chapel's voice came over the small speaker. Spock responded quickly.

"Everything is fine, dear. The Captain is merely sleeping. It has been a wearisome mission, and we have much to catch up on, Christine."

Spock waited. If his estimates of Nurse Chapel's intelligence were correct, she should have long ago realized what was wrong, to an extent.

 _"_ _I …can't wait to see you again, honey. I'll meet you in the shuttle bay with… with uh… With a piping hot bowl of plomeek soup. We can talk about the mission over dinner."_

Had Spock been human, he might have sighed with relief. He merely continued as if nothing was amiss.

"I shall greatly anticipate it. I will see you in approximately 10.6 minutes. Spock out."

Tacitus smirked again as Spock closed the connection. "You have guts, Vulcan, lying to your _dear Christine_ in this manner. I suppose she will be disappointed. Do not worry, though, she will not be upset for long."

The rest of the shuttle ride passed in silence. Every so often, the Captain would shift himself, a sound met with the scraping of drawn steel. Spock kept his focus ahead. He needed to prepare for docking. Nurse Chapel would no doubt appear in the shuttle bay with an innocent looking bowl. Security would be close at hand. Spock needed to quickly devise a plan that would protect the Captain and Sergius Evandrus.

"When we arrive, you will go out to greet dear Christine, Vulcan." Tacitus spoke suddenly. "You will beckon her to the shuttle. Once she is inside, we will allow her to live if you keep her silent. You will lock yourselves in the shuttle and we will take the ship."

He left no room for objection or confirmation. These were orders. Spock decided he would comply. This would get the Velites out of the shuttle and into the waiting Security ambush. It would also prevent any… unnecessary casualties. Spock suppressed all reaction. Tacitus must not know of his plans.

The shuttle bay doors opened to allow the _Born's_ entrance. Spock landed. The bay repressurized and, right on time, Christine Chapel entered with a steaming bowl of soup and a smile. The Velites at the back of the shuttle began moving. Spock turned to see that they had hauled the Captain and Sergius Evandrus from their seats. There was a sword at each prisoner's throat.

"Go, Vulcan. Bring dear Christine back."

Spock stood. He met the Captain's gaze. 'I hope you know what you are doing, Spock', it seemed to say. Spock nodded once and opened the _Born's_ forward door.

"Spock, darling!" Chapel called at his appearance. Spock walked quickly to Chapel's position. He would require a sufficient return distance to warn her of Tacitus' plan.

"Christine… dear. I have missed you. The soup looks… lovely. _Full_ of _spice_ as I prefer it."

Chapel's face lit up with the most genuine fake smile Spock believed he had ever seen. "Oh, it's _loaded,_ Spock." There was a twinkle in Chapel's eye. "Tell me, how is the Captain? I'm a nurse after all. If he needs medical attention…"

"Ah, yes, Christine. If you would come to the shuttle. The Captain is _in a bad way,_ as it were. We will have to stay _very close._ "

Chapel braced herself. Spock seemed a bit antsy, well, for a Vulcan. She'd have to be prepared for whatever waited on the other side of those doors.

They mounted the steps of the shuttlecraft, with Spock bringing up the rear. The doors swooshed open. Chapel found herself face to face with a gleaming sword in the instant before one of Spock's hands silenced her gasp. She felt his other grab her arm and she tensed. _He can't upset the bowl. Whatever happens, keep the bowl steady._ She repeated to herself.

The soldier with the sword stepped back. He wore a similar uniform to the man from the brig, Chapel realized. _This must be another Optio._ She glanced around the shuttle to find at least ten other Velites crowded towards the back. Spock guided her away from the doorway, around back towards the Captain. _Good, Spock, that's the ticket._ She thought, not knowing whether his Vulcan telepathy could pick up on her every idea.

He stopped when they were standing next to the Captain's guard. Chapel kept a firm grip on the tray of soup.

" _Dear Christine,"_ The Optio spoke mockingly. "We are delighted to see you, as must be your Vulcan. Stay put, do not try to fight. We are leaving two of our number here, and they are armed." The two Velites holding the Captain and a Hephasten man nodded.

Without another word, the Optio beckoned the rest of his men towards the door. They were gone in a moment. _Go ahead. I won't do anything to stop you from walking into a great big trap, you bunch of-_ Chapel was interrupted mid-thought. Spock had released her arm. It was time to act. Chapel inhaled deeply through her nose, then dove at the nearest Velite. She grabbed his sword arm at the wrist and stabbed past his prisoner with the hypospray she had hidden in the bowl of soup. She didn't really care one way or another if the plomeek did anything to Hephasten biological chemistry. All she knew was that her cocktail of sedatives worked. The Velite dropped his sword and hit the floor. Chapel caught the former prisoner as his guard collapsed. Spock had successfully executed a Vulcan nerve pinch on the Captain's guard. It all unfolded in a matter of seconds.

"A hypospray in the soup, Nurse?" The Captain asked a bit hoarsely as Spock released him. "Isn't that a little unhygienic?"

Chapel helped the Hephasten prisoner into one of the open seats. Once she had established that her patient was stable, she turned to her Captain with a smirk.

"He didn't seem to mind, sir. Remind me to send flowers to whoever made those things waterproof."

A loud _BANG!_ and a few thuds sounded from outside the shuttle. Chapel met the Captain's confused gaze and smiled. "That must be the cavalry. Come on, sir, let's go greet the crew." She helped the Hephasten to his feet and led the former prisoners out to the shuttle bay.

Kirk was surprised and not at all upset to find a fully armed detail of Security men and women surrounding the Velites. Most of them had been stunned, though a few remained standing with their hands in the air. Kirk took pleasure in noting that Optio Tacitus was among the stunned soldiers. One Ensign stepped forward and saluted. The rest kept their weapons trained on the would-be invaders.

"Ensign Turney reporting, sir. The intruders have been secured. Your orders?"

The Captain grinned as he surveyed the Security team. They were no more than Ensigns, if that. He noticed that many were yeomen, training their phasers on the Velites with blank sleeves. _And they've done so well,_ he reflected, _they've held my ship together, kept her safe, down to the last man._

He turned his attention to the waiting Ensign. "Thank you, Turney. Have them escorted to the brig, if there's any room left." He added this last with a smile. "I heard you have had some difficulties since the landing parties went ashore."

Turney nodded once. "Yes sir. We have the original invaders in the brig, and the transporters are offline and under guard. There are two casualties reported, though none fatal."

"Thank you for the update, Ensign. As you were. Oh, one more thing: have what crewmen you can spare board the _Born_ and prepare to organize our crew onshore. I've been reliably informed that there's a prison break on. Thank you. Spock," He addressed his First Officer as the Velites were marched out, "We need to get up to the Bridge and establish contact with everyone on the ground."

"Excuse me, Captain, but you both need to be seen to in Sickbay." Nurse Chapel stopped Kirk and Spock in their tracks. The Captain opened his mouth to protest, but Chapel cut him off. "And besides the fact that you two look like you've been run through an industrial sand-blaster, the storm has sufficiently blocked out communications. A stop in Sickbay wouldn't hurt. I can even alert the Bridge and have them notify you if anything changes."

Kirk's mouth snapped shut at the clear and, dare he say it, _logical_ argument.

"Alright, Nurse. Have it your way." He turned to Spock, who had an eyebrow arched in surprise at the Captain's lack of protest. "Well, Spock, she _is_ the Acting CMO. And don't forget who trained her…" Kirk put on his best appeasing smile. "You saw the hypo in the soup. I think we're outmatched."

Chapel broke into a wider grin at Spock's utter lack of argument. "Glad to see you two can see reason. Now let's get you and… Mister…?"

"Evandrus… Sergius Evandrus…" The messenger panted. At second glance, he was looking worse than Chapel had suspected. "What happened to him, Captain? Mister Spock?"

Spock did not reply, but turned to Kirk for the answer. The Captain blinked. "I think one of the Velites may have hit him. On the head, once, and maybe a couple of blows to the ribcage. I can't be sure. I don't know…" A worried expression crossed the Captain's face for an instant, but he recovered.

"Perhaps, Captain, we should go to Sickbay at once. Nurse, if you will attend to Evandrus, I will escort the Captain."

"No need, Mister Spock, sir!" A voice echoed from the other side of the shuttle bay. The doors had opened moments ago for the available members of the medical staff to come through with three gurneys and The Big Med Kit.

"Morris, I could kiss you." Chapel sighed with relief as her patient was transferred to a more stable mode of transportation. "Boss, I'm on duty!" Nurse Morris exclaimed with mock horror. "Let's get everyone back as quickly as we can." He gestured to Nurse Page, who was trying to coax the Captain onto an open gurney. "Come on, Page. If he can walk, let him. We've got to get back." He turned back to Chapel. "We left Clyde in charge. Kyle's vitals are almost back to normal, but we're keeping him sedated for another hour at least."

Captain Kirk gave Morris an anxious look. "What happened? Ensign Turney said there were _two_ casualties. Who's hurt? What did the invaders do?"

"Page, get him on that gurney. Mister Spock, if you would…" Spock was already moving to help the Captain. Chapel nodded and helped Morris with Sergius Evandrus. "Good. Let's get going. We might have some work to do. In the meantime, Morris, get to work scanning his vitals. Use the readings we took from the Velites as a cross reference and see if we can figure out just what's broken." She looked over to see a considerably agitated but compliant Captain Kirk strapped to Page's gurney. Seeing that everything was just about under control, Chapel turned back to Morris. "Call Clyde. Tell her we have two incoming."

* * *

 

The streets of Flagratus were still deserted as the pickup barreled down the alleyway. The storm had started blowing full-tilt nearly as soon as they'd taken off from the power station. Scotty had slightly loosened his death-grip on the back railing, but hadn't moved or released his hold for anything. McCoy sat hunched and grumbling on the other side.

"It's always something! Thunder-snow, Sand fires, Ion storms! You'd think Starfleet would look into improving their communications tech after all we hafta go through! If I had a credit for every time I've been stranded without a comm signal, I could buy my _own_ planet to get marooned on!"

Scott barked out a laugh. "Ah'd be inclined to agree wi' ye, Doctor, if it weren't for the variables involved. There's no tellin' what kind o'-"

"Aw, can it, Scotty! If I wanted a lecture, I'd'a called Spock. Oh wait. _We don't have a blasted signal!_ " A fist thumped the glass window next to their heads. "I s'ppose that's the universal signal for 'keep it down'." McCoy observed in a lower tone.

"Aye! Please!" Scotty offered no further comment and left McCoy scowling. He was feeling more than a bit nauseous after the long and bumpy ride. His wrist throbbed inside the thick glove. As much as it protected him from exposure or direct injury, it was hot. That was the thing he hated most about the sand fires, he decided. The heat stayed. Unlike any good ol' ordinary storm where the temperature dropped to a more tolerable level, the sand fire actually insulated the area it was oppressing. It was still as hot as it had been when they arrived. Hotter, maybe. Scotty realized that the small increase in the visible terrain must be due to the break of day. Unfortunately, the storm stopped for no man's schedule, whether that man be a Starfleet officer, or a generally accepted pattern of reality.

Despite the frolicking union of wind and grit, Scotty found himself recognizing a few of Flagratus' more notable landmarks.

"McCoy. We're passin' th' main hospital. Uh, what's left of it." McCoy dangerously swung himself to Scotty's side of the truck. The bed shifted a little with the change in weight.

"You're right. An' there's the field hospital right next to it. We're awful close now."

"What do y'suppose we're doin'?" Scotty wondered aloud.

"Headed back to the palace, prob'ly." McCoy guessed. "Maybe it's time for a showdown with the queen. Merces seems pretty excited about it."

"Aye. Ah figure you're not far off th' mark." Scotty turned to his companion. McCoy was staring, best he could what with all the sand, out into the empty city.

"Do you think they're ok, Scotty? The crew? Everyone?"

Scotty didn't even pause to consider. "Y'know what? I think they're just fine. Honestly!" He defended at McCoy's skeptical glare. "Y'needn't be so worried. We've got allies in the city. Jus' lookit how far we've already got with Merces and his clan. In fact…" Scotty felt his spirits rise at this realization. "In fact, th' Captain an' Mister Spock've probably already sent down reinforcements, or a rescue team or summat."

McCoy nodded. "You're absolutely right, Scotty. That's the clear course for Jim to take. I don't know why it hadn't occurred to me…"

The pickup began to slow. Scott and McCoy leaned over the side to try and get a glimpse of where Merces had decided to stop.

"Well I'll be…" McCoy murmured. Sure enough, they had arrived a few streets down from the palace. Merces Evandrus shut off the engine. McCoy got to his feet first, but Scotty was quick to clamber out the back of the bed. The doctor snorted. "Lightweight."

"Ah'd watch mah tone if ah were you, Doctor!" The Scot shot back. "Where Ah come from, them's fightin' words!"

Merces chose this moment to slam the truck door. McCoy jumped, literally stumbling off the tail end of the vehicle. He kicked up a small cloud of dust trying to regain his footing on the uneven ground.

"Who's the lightweight now, Doct-"

"Not another word." The physician growled. "Let's just get this show on the road."

"Gentlemen." Merces Evandrus came up alongside them. "We venture to the palace. The queen likely has few guards left in her ranks. The loss of power will have caused quite the disturbance. We will secure the inner building and wait for the rest of my clan to meet us. It should not take more than a few hours, now that the plant has been destroyed."

"Alright." McCoy responded. "Let's go. Scotty, how're you holding up?"

Scotty sighed. "Ah'm just fine, McCoy. Lead the way, Evandrus."

The trio set off up the street. The sand was flying at a lesser velocity now. Whereas it had been whirling nearly parallel to the ground some hours ago, now it was flying at a gentler angle and speed. Scotty was still in doubt as to whether or not they could contact the ship, since he couldn't even see the sky beyond the thick clouds and occasional lightning flash.

He was so lost in thought that he nearly stumbled over the first of many steps leading to the front of the palace.

"Easy there, 'fightin' words'." McCoy chided, "I don't wanna have t' patch up your other wrist before we even get through the door."

"Bold words for a man who once _fell through_ a wall duct in th' Jeffries' tubes. Now, how exactly did ye pull tha' one off again?"

"You know darn well what happened you grease-stained hooligan-"

There was a shushing sound from up ahead. Apparently, they were entering with some degree of stealth. McCoy continued to mutter under his breath about 'snarky engineers' as they followed Merces up to the front doors. The former Velite came up to the entryway and motioned for McCoy and Scott to come closer.

"We will enter this way. As far as I can determine, the palace is deserted. The queen and her supporters will have fled to the bunkers. They will find no aid there. My cousin Horatius will have seen to that. Worry not about your crew. They are likely already free." Merces added his reassurances after seeing the concerned realization in his companions' faces. He continued, "It should not be difficult to secure the queen's command room. We will find many of the Empire's darkest secrets hidden there. Hopefully, they will serve to lighten the burdens of my people."

Neither Scott nor McCoy said a word. They liked Merces Evandrus and his brother well enough, though they weren't entirely sure about their cause. It had never been fully explained to, well, _anyone_ from the _Enterprise._ They could only suppose Evandrus' clan was fighting for freedom and justice for his people. When the soldier's back turned, McCoy and Scott exchanged a look. McCoy made a vague shrugging motion then gestured with two fingers to 'keep an eye on him'. Scotty nodded an affirmative.

Evandrus glanced back at his companions. They were still there, waiting. He advanced toward the door with Scott and McCoy on his heels. The ornate handles on the door were no doubt for show, with the locking mechanisms hidden in the thick wood paneling. To Scotty's surprise, Evandrus simply pulled it open. He had expected more from a palace entrance.

The former Velite led the way. Scotty had to admit that he was impressed. As much as the throne room had been ornate with its décor (regardless of how tasteless Scotty found the tapestries of bloody warfare), the main hallway was equally opulent. More conservative tapestries adorned the walls. These depicted what Scotty could only assume were former leaders, or events of historical prominence. Hallways opened up in between the tapestries, reminding Scotty of well-decorated library shelves. It suddenly occurred to him that the palace must have some sort of backup generator or was independently powered from the get-go, because the front hallway was extremely well lit. It utilized the same horizontal fixtures as the throne room with the noticeable exception that these lights were blue.

"The emergency power is on." Evandrus clarified. "That means the palace is occupied after all."

If they needed further confirmation, they were in luck: a lone Velite guard in full uniform rounded the corner at the end of the hall. He stopped, stared, and reacted, much to Scotty's dismay.

"Die, rebels!" The Velite shouted. His arm arched back and a small object came flying through the blue tinted gloom.

"Get down!" Evandrus shouted as he dived down one of the side halls. Scotty leapt to his left, tackling McCoy. The doctor yelped as the two men slid behind the nearest wall. A burning wave overtook the room, bringing along a rain of shattered tile and molten tapestry. Scotty pressed McCoy's head to the floor, doing his best as a human shield. The room stopped shuddering. Lifting his head cautiously, Scotty surveyed the damage. He moved into a cautious crouch. Over the fading whine in his ears, he heard a clanging sound up around the corner.

McCoy was starting to get up. Scotty caught the doctor's eye and shook his head. The message was clear: _now's not the time._ Scotty took a deep breath and made his way to the blind corner. He checked over his shoulder to make sure McCoy had stayed put. He was acting on the unspoken agreement between himself and his own COs. When it came down to combat, protect the Doctor at all costs. Scotty realized the wisdom beyond the obvious for this plan. Regardless of the fact that McCoy was no fighter, no heavyweight certainly, he was a healer first and foremost. If it came down to combat and Scotty lost, he'd rather have a whole McCoy to put him back together again.

The engineer poked his head out. At the end of the room, Evandrus was grappling with the Velite. Neither looked worse for wear from the explosion, so they appeared to be equally matched. The Velite twisted out of Evandrus' grip and went on the offensive. _Well, so much for that idea._ Scotty decided it was time to intervene. He started off at a jog towards the combatants. Throwing his scarf to the side, Scotty pulled off his coat and threw it over the grenadier's head. The Velite took a startled step back, and Evandrus took advantage of the opening. One swift punch, and the attacker was down for the count.

At a closer range, Scotty could see the yellow smear under Evandrus' freshly broken nose. The soldier nodded to Scotty. "Thank you for your aid. I admit, he was my superior in hand-to-hand combat."

"Aye, it was nothin'. Doctor McCoy?" Scotty called back down the hall. The doctor's head appeared from behind the wall.

"Didja get 'im, Scotty?"

"Aye, Doctor. But it was mostly Evandrus. An' our friend here got it as good as he gave, Ah believe!"

McCoy rolled his eyes to high heaven and jogged over. "What broke?" He asked with a grimace.

"Only his nose. Ah think. Evandrus?" Scotty turned back to the soldier, who shook his head.

"It is only my nose. Nothing to be concerned over." He looked down to the Velite still under Scotty's coat. "If there was one, there will be more. We must continue inside." Evandrus beckoned them towards the space where the guard had entered.

They followed the blue hallway for some time. Evandrus had an apparent knowledge of the terrain, so to speak. He never hesitated by a doorway or corridor. As soon as they arrived at the appropriate turn, Evandrus took it. Scotty followed as closely as he dared, checking every so often to make sure McCoy was right behind them. He knew it was easy enough to get waylaid in this place. He wasn't going to take any chances.

It was during one of these routine backwards glances that Scotty ran headlong into Evandrus, who had stopped abruptly at a doorway. They barreled right through. Scotty rolled to his side. Before he could get his bearings again, there was a hand on his collar hauling him upright. He shook his head and turned to the side. It wasn't Evandrus. It wasn't McCoy. Scotty found himself face to face with a fully armored soldier unlike any they had encountered before.

The armored Hephasten scrutinized him, and to Scotty's surprised, gasped in recognition.

"He wears the gauntlet of the Warrior!"

Scotty looked around to see exactly who this man was talking to. There was only one other guard, _or whoever these new fellas are,_ in the room. He was standing over Merces Evandrus with what looked like a Hephasten hand phaser. Evandrus was certainly wary of it, whatever it was. Scotty nearly sighed with relief when he realized McCoy was not present. _At last! The Doctor had the good sense to 'get while the getting's good'._ _He can go for help, or-_

Scotty's heart sank as two armored Hephastens dragged a kicking Leonard McCoy back into the room.

"Tesserar Cicerus! We have captured the last intruder." One of them addressed the Hephasten holding Scotty.

"Get your hands offa me!" McCoy nearly shouted. The doctor was doing his level best to break away, but neither man budged. One took a look at the struggling human and unsheathed the dagger from his belt.

"Shall I silence this one, Tesserar?" He inquired flatly. The Tesserar, some sort of commander evidently, stopped to consider. Scotty gulped. He needed to do something and _fast_. Praying that these new soldiers would be as gullible as their queen, he cleared his throat.

"Ahem! He is under mah protection. Ye'll nae lay a hand on him." Scotty was instantly released. The Tesserar eyed him curiously, as if he questioned the authority with which the engineer spoke. Scotty was questioning several things just then, but he continued to bluff with a bravado that would've made his Captain proud.

"Aye. Ye heard correct. As Chief Engineer of the Federation's flagship and decorated warrior," he used the previously spoken term to his advantage. "Ah suggest ye take us straight to the top. Who's your highest ranking officer?"

The Tesserar straightened, surprised. "We serve the new Queen. She has demanded to not be disturbed."

Scotty frowned. _A new queen? Who is it now, an' maybe more importantly what happened t' the other one?_ "That'll have t'do, lad." He hoped the mix of sternness and condescension would keep this Tesserar's questions at bay. _Best get straight to the bottom of this disaster,_ Scotty decided, _Ah'd rather get it all over with sooner than later._

"Tesserar Cicerus… What shall we do with this one?" The guard standing over Evandrus gestured to his prisoner. "He is a Velite of the old order. I do not recognize him from the recruits."

The Tesserar studied Evandrus. "You do not wear the helmet of the Velites."

"I do not." Evandrus glared up at this new commander. "I owe no loyalty to Avilius and her criminal court."

The Tesserar did not respond right away. After a moment, he turned to the two men holding McCoy. "We will take them all. Keep hold of that one. He is… flighty." The Tesserar ignored McCoy's squawk of indignation and inclined his head towards Scotty. "We will proceed to the throne room." It wasn't a request. Scotty obliged, following Tesserar Cicerus down the vaguely familiar hallways. He considered the possibility that they had been marched this same way a few hours ago, by another Hephasten soldier.

The Tesserar walked quickly, and Scotty had to put forth a bit of effort to keep up. As he neared, the Hephasten suddenly slackened the pace. Scotty slowed.

"I am aware of your game, Engineer." Scotty did a double take. This Cicerus was peculiar, if nothing else.

"Excuse me?" Was all Scotty could think to say.

Cicerus snorted softly. "I know where your loyalties lie, Engineer. Tales of your exploits have reached the ears of many, even the Queen, but I know you have your weaknesses as well. The Quaestinarius have not thrived by happenstance…"

"Quaestinarius?" Scotty remembered the term. _The Quaestinarius haven't thrived by chance… Thrived? So they're the ones in power now. But if the spies are in charge, then that means…_ He froze. The instinct to turn and run overcame him, and Scotty barreled back down the hallway towards McCoy and the others. Footsteps echoed behind him, but he didn't care. They needed to get out of here. They needed to get out _now._ Up ahead, Scotty could hear the doctor's characteristic griping. _Good, that means this might work._ He rounded the corner as fast as his feet would carry him, straight into the path of Merces Evandrus' guard. Scotty drove his left fist into the guard's face with hardly a pause. The Hephasten dropped his weapon and Evandrus was quick to scoop it up. Scotty heard a blast and could only assume that Evandrus had fired on his guard or the Tesserar.

Further down the narrow corridor, McCoy had taken the opportunity to try and distract his captors with an impromptu escape attempt. He was no match for either of them, but while their attention was focused on the doctor, Scotty came up behind them. He snatched the dagger from one guard's belt and leveled it at the other's throat.

"Get back, both o' ye! Release the doctor and _stand back!_ " The guard without an angry knife in his face released McCoy, who merely scowled and rubbed at his arm. Scotty quickly repositioned himself between McCoy and the armored men. He took a look back down the hallway to see Evandrus approaching with the hand phaser.

"Sorry, lad!" Scotty called. He put a hand to McCoy's shoulder and started backing away quickly. "We've got ta go, this minute!"

Evandrus pointed his weapon at the guards and gave Scotty a puzzled frown. "Leave? But we have not yet achieved the objective!"

The engineer gave his friend another nudge and continued back. "We don't have time for this. Sorry, Evandrus. I wish ye luck, but we have t' be leavin'. _Now._ "

With one last nod, Scotty flipped the grip on his knife and urged McCoy at a full sprint down the corridor.

"Run!" He instructed. "Run like your life depends on it!"

"What's wrong, Scotty?" McCoy hollered.

"We're in grave danger, McCoy! Th' palace is swarming with Quaestinarius!"

The doctor didn't have to ask why that was bad news. They picked up the pace, McCoy trying his best to remember what direction they had come from. They passed several doorways, some of which Scotty thought looked familiar, some he had never seen before.

"Up there! That's the door Horatius let me out of! We're home free, Scotty!" McCoy decelerated quickly and yanked on the handle. Later, Scotty would kick himself for not recognizing the door. Doctor McCoy found himself stumbling not into a swirling sandstorm, but something far worse.

The room's walls were lined with tapestries depicting the same scenes of bloody battle and conquest, made eerier by the faint blue glow of the emergency lighting. Intricately woven carpet covered the floor, but there was something else too. McCoy took a step forward as Scotty's instincts screamed at him to just grab the doctor and run.

"Hey Scotty, what do you think th-" McCoy's question broke off into a gasp. Fighting every impulse, Scotty took a few steps forward to see what had alarmed his friend. The culprit began to take shape in the gloom. Scotty could see the clear outline of a person. He came right alongside McCoy. Contrary to what Scotty expected, McCoy didn't move to begin a medical examination. Then, he saw a pair of eyes in the darkness much too far from the body before them.

Next to him, McCoy ran a hand over his face. "What… What happened here? There are… more of them, Scotty. More, further on in."

It was true. Scotty felt sick as his adjusting eyes picked out the prone figures. There was a certain shimmer to the ground as well, one that didn't come from expertly woven cloth.

They stood there in silence for a while, the only sound being the duo's labored breathing from the sprint. McCoy coughed after a minute. Scotty knew the feeling. He was still wheezing a fair bit. It had been a day, two days maybe, full of desperate escapes and close shaves. Only a matter of time before it started catching up with them.

"Ah think we should go back th' way we came, Leonard."

McCoy let out another heavy cough, but agreed. "Yeah. This whole planet's starting to give me the willies." As they turned to go, the wooden door opened. Scotty saw the glint of a large blade. A short, but well armed figure entered the room. The door shut once again.

"Leaving so soon, gentlemen? Oh my, Doctor. I _am_ surprised to see you up and about. What a pleasure to see you again."

The cold voice filled the room. At Scotty's side, McCoy took a sudden step back. _That's it then,_ Scotty grimaced as his suspicions were confirmed. He flexed his gloved hand and moved between the doctor and the door.

"Scotty, no. She's armed and plenty dangerous." McCoy hissed.

"Ah'm well aware. But Ah've got a few tricks up mah sleeve as well, ye needn't worry about that." The engineer cleared his throat and addressed the newcomer.

" _Queen_ Summanus, I presume?"

It was too dark to tell if his words elicited a reaction. After a moment, Scotty heard Summanus chuckle.

"My, my. You have more wit than they gave you credit for, Chief Engineer. Yes, I have heard of your honors and skill in battle. What a delight it will be to add your head to my collection."

Scotty took a deep breath, steeling himself for the conflict ahead. "Ah have no quarrel with you, Summanus. No quarrel _yet,_ anyhow. Let us leave peacefully, and that'll be that."

"You greatly underestimate me, Chief Engineer. I have disposed of Avilius. Bellona, as well. My Quaestinarius have replaced the palace guard."

Scotty needed time to think. He knew he was probably no match for the leader of the Quaestinarius, and McCoy didn't have a weapon. Scotty decided to play the lucky card that'd worked for his this far: Stall.

"And just how did a glorified _spy_ manage to seize power so effectively?" He prayed that adding insult to inquiry would help Summanus rise to the bait.

"Do you honestly believe that a great mind like Avilius' would support a plan so foolish as to simply _invade_ your Federation?" Summanus practically snarled. "I admit, her mind was great once, but the minds of rulers are too plagued to notice when careful suggestions take root, like mine had. It was easy, with my abilities, to influence her plan. King Cardia before her concocted the scheme of the device, but planned to use it for smaller conquests. Piracy! His mind was truly weak!" Summanus paused in her explanation to laugh at the former monarchs. Scotty had no doubt in his mind that she was every bit the ruthless monster he had heard.

"But now I have the throne. Soon, I will have the _Enterprise._ What shall I rename her, Doctor?" The change in her tone caused Scotty to shudder. He had no idea exactly what McCoy had been through at the Inn, only that he'd had the wits to trick Summanus once. He hoped they'd be able to outsmart her again.

McCoy didn't reply. Scotty noticed a smug tone in the telepath's voice as she spoke again. "It is of no consequence. You will still have to serve aboard. I merely put you to sleep last time. I do not know how you escaped, but you will not do so again. I have grown more powerful than you can imagine!"

Scotty didn't know how applicable the nearly-cliché statement was in this case. Judging by McCoy's reaction, Summanus might be stronger than he'd thought.

"McCoy? Leonard? Are you alright?" He checked on the doctor, who hadn't yet moved or made a sound.

"Thank your lucky stars that you're totally psi-null, Scotty." McCoy's rasp barely above a whisper. "She's broadcasting… the coup. Exactly how she did it, no gory details spared. It's almost too much. We've gotta get outta here, Scotty."

The engineer ran through his options. Summanus was armed. She was more than a match for Scotty and his dagger. She was blocking the only exit. _Exit._

It hit Scotty like a photon torpedo. He spun around and grabbed McCoy's arm. "We're getting' out of here! Don't stop! Don't stop for anythin'!"

" _Like I would!_ " Came the panicked response.

Scotty plunged through the darkness, torn between watching where he was going and not daring to look down. He made a beeline for the throne, hauling McCoy all the way. Scotty was banking on the fact that Summanus had been exposed to the darker throne room for less time than they, and she would probably have a harder time navigating in full armor. For good measure, he knocked over the chair his Captain had occupied on his first visit. Scotty veered to the left and pulled McCoy behind the large throne. He heard a shout and what could only be cursing. _Good. Ah'd say she fell for it._

Behind the throne, there were three more tapestries. Scotty took a deep breath, and charged at the middle one. His luck held: there _was_ an opening in the wall. McCoy's startled cry was almost lost in the thick fabric. Scotty kept going. The passage opened up onto a narrow hallway. This one, Scotty did not recognize for sure. He plowed straight past the closed doors and rounded the corner at the end of the hall. There was a tearing noise and a thud behind them. Summanus had lost her temper with the tapestry.

They found themselves at the end of the hallway. There were three doors, one of which appeared to have some sort of mechanical locking system. "Start tryin' doors, man!" Scotty instructed as he made his way to the rightmost door. He grabbed the handle with his gloved hand and pulled. The door came flying open, along with it a flurry of sparks. An intense wave of heat nearly knocked Scotty back. He held a hand in front of his face and peered into the orange blaze. The main hall was up in flames. Scotty shut the door as quickly as he was able. He turned to see what progress McCoy had made. The doctor was frantically trying to pry open the locked door.

"The other one's a supply closet, no handle on the inside." He explained, "We wouldn't get too far with that one. Gimme a hand here, it's shut tight."

The engineer rushed over to the doctor's side. The mechanism couldn't be overcome by brute force, this much was clear. Scotty figured he could, given time, use the dagger in his hand to work over the inner components. Pounding footsteps around the corner told him that time was not one of their assets.

There was nowhere to run, no options. _Well, besides one…_ Scotty reflected. _Ah hope the Doctor will forgive me for this._

"Maybe there's somethin' in that supply closet we can use!" He gestured at the door and McCoy quickly took the bait.

"Alright. I thought I saw a crowbar or somethin' like it a second ago. Yeah, here we go," McCoy commented, opening the door, "I guess it's a crowbar… sorta… We could probably use it to-" Scotty snatched the tool out of McCoy's hand and shoved the doctor through the open door. McCoy stumbled backward and there was a loud crash just as Scotty slammed the door shut. He turned, ignoring the muffled shouts, to face the hallway.

It wasn't quite as dark as it had been in the throne room. When Summanus rounded the corner, Scotty could see her much more clearly. The former head of the Quaestinarius was wearing Queen Avilius' armor, although it seemed rather large for Summanus' slight frame. Scotty saw flecks of something light dotting the red leathery plates.

"So, Engineer," She took a step forward, raising her sword. "The time for our battle has come. I have longed to directly participate in the destruction of your forces." Scotty saw that she was favoring one leg, probably from her tumble in the throne room. _Well, at least Ah have that t'my advantage._ Scotty considered his strategy. Summanus looked fairly disheveled. Perhaps the chase had sapped some of her energy. He certainly hoped so, seeing as how this one woman had obliterated an entire monarchy in a matter of hours, not to mention the depth of her involvement in the _Enterprise_ plot.

"Our destruction?" Scotty countered, "The only thing that's been destroyed is your city an' it's resources. Look around! Ye've got no power plant, no city, an' hardly any palace left!"

Summanus snarled. "We have dealt heavy blows to your crew. My soldiers have invaded your ship, slaughtered your crew-"

"Aye? And where'd y'hear that from? Who confirmed conquest?"

His opponent seemed to falter. Scotty pressed his advantage. "That's right. Ah've been in personal contact wi' the _Enterprise_ in the last _hour_. We're in no danger from your invasion force."

"We… Your crew! Your other officers! They are in the bunkers! They are mine!"

Scotty shook his head. "They're escaping, if they haven't done so already. As much as ye've been plotting, so have others. There's an entire clan risin' up against ye, maybe even the whole city." Chuckling wryly, Scotty quoted, "The only things you can trust in Flagratus are the things you can verify yourself."

Summanus' sword dropped slightly. Scotty held his breath. Maybe she had finally given up. Suddenly, the leader of the Quaestinarius met his gaze. Her eyes burned with a mixture of shame and anger. Scotty recognized the expression. His heart sank. Summanus wouldn't stop here. She had come this far already. She would want revenge.

The sword arched upward. Scotty leapt to the side as Summanus' blade cleaved the air where his head used to be. The swing had enough power to lodge the sword in the adjacent door. Scotty shuffled backward as Summanus wrenched the weapon free. She growled, twirling to face her opponent once again. Scotty raised the crowbar and set himself between Summanus and the supply closet. He didn't know how the alien metal would stand up against forged weaponry, but he had to try.

This time, the attack came less haphazardly. Summanus aimed a thrust at Scotty's stomach, which he sidestepped. He weighed his options. Scotty had an advantage in his height for one: short as he was for the average human, he had at least half a foot on Summanus. With this in mind, he took a downward swing at the outstretched blade, sending the tip into the floor and it's wielder off balance. Summanus stumbled, and Scotty swung the crowbar again, aiming to knock the sword out of her hands. She dodged, pulling to the side so she had the wall at her back.

Scotty took a step forward. Summanus raised her sword. She was breathing harder, Scotty noticed. He wondered if he looked just as tired as he felt. The crowbar was getting heavier. His wrist was throbbing. The temperature in the room was rising. Scotty remembered the fire. He had to end this quickly. If not… his thoughts traveled back to McCoy in the supply closet. If he lost the fight, the doctor would either be trapped in the blaze, or recaptured by Summanus. He didn't even want to think about that possibility. With sweat now pouring down his face, Scotty took up a stance. This time, he was the one to charge. Summanus parried the crowbar thrust, but couldn't avoid being shoved back by the Scotsman's shoulder. Scotty threw himself against his foe, pinning her against the wall by his side. Summanus tried to bring her sword up and around, but Scotty pushed the crowbar between himself and the blade. She managed to land a slice across his other shoulder. Scotty couldn't stifle his shout before forcing the sword back. There was a sudden pounding noise and a violent crash at the end of the hall. Summanus instinctively turned towards the sound and Scotty used the distraction to knock the sword from her hands.

He replaced his pressing weight with the crowbar. Summanus was trapped. She tried kicking out, but Scotty pushed harder with the bar. The pounding continued. There was a clang and a muffled shout, followed by another crash. Over the din, the engineer could pick out a single " _Scotty!"_

Summanus chose that moment to push back. She braced her back against the wall and drove both feet into Scotty's stomach. He fell back, groaning, but maintained his grip on the crowbar and the dagger. He hit the floor. Summanus looked around wildly, searching for an option. Her sword was out of her reach. Scotty was rolling on the floor, but he was still armed. She took the only option remaining.

Scotty's eyes widened and he tried to call out as Summanus turned to the door behind her. She turned to smirk at the engineer one last time before wrenching it open and throwing herself inside.

Scotty would never forget the sound for as long as he lived. For whatever reason, be it a draft or the weight of the wood, the instant Summanus stepped into the blazing hall the door slammed shut behind her.

He tried to suck in a deep breath and found himself coughing shallowly. He rolled to a sitting position. His vision swam and his ears were assaulted with much more than a ringing. After an agonizing minute, his head cleared. There was silence.

Scotty worked himself up onto his feet. He used the wall for support and made his way over to the supply closet. The door was heavier than he remembered. He hauled it open. Out fell Doctor McCoy, along with a few metal implements and a small crate. McCoy pushed himself up on his hands and knees.

"And what in heaven's name was that for?" McCoy growled. Scotty offered him a hand, but the doctor pushed it away. He got to his feet, glaring.

"I thought you were better than that, Scotty. It's usually just Jim 'n Spock who get up to these foolhardy, self-sacrificing _kamikaze missions! What in heaven's name were you thinking?_ " This last was shouted in Scotty's face. The engineer took a step back. He knew McCoy had a temper, but it had hardly ever been directed full-force at himself.

"Doctor McCoy, I-"

"Don't you 'Doctor McCoy' me! I've had it up t' here with all this blasted 'hero' crap y'all keep tryin' t' pull! What were you thinking, taking on Summanus on your own?"

Scotty shifted the dagger into his other hand and wrapped an arm around his stomach. He looked McCoy in the eye.

"Ah couldn't face the alternative. As far as Ah'm concerned, Ah didnae have any other options."

McCoy's eyebrows shot up. The two of them were silent for a moment, neither very sure of what there was to say. He took a breath and noticed his friend's posture. "Scotty… Your shoulder. Did she get you? Where else?" He reached out to try and examine the tear in Scotty's dress shirt.

"Never mind that! We have t'leave! The building's on fire."

"What?" McCoy gasped. "Where-" He looked to the closed door and saw an orange flicker slip under the wood.

"This way! We'll have t' disable the locking mechanism." Scotty marched over to the locked doorway. He dropped the crowbar and turned the dagger over in his hand. The tip of the blade was easily inserted into a slit in the paneling. The whole plate came off with a single pry, and Scotty was in. In the blue gloom, he examined the electrical components.

"It's clearly still operational, even in th' blackout." Scotty stated for McCoy's benefit. The doctor was hovering at his side anxiously. "If Ah can disable th' right relay, the door should unlock itself. If only Ah had a wee bit more light to work with…"

"Uh, Scotty… Be careful what you wish for…" Scotty turned his head to see flames licking the doorframe directly behind them. Smoke poured in from the widening cracks in the paneling.

"Go, Scotty, _Go!"_

 _"_ Ah'm workin' as fast as Ah can! Keep yer coat on!"

"Inna minute I'm gonna have to start puttin' out fires on our backsides if you don't hurry up!"

The room was quickly filling with smoke. McCoy pulled his scarf up over his face. Scotty coughed, almost doubling over from the sharp pain shooting up from his stomach. McCoy put a supporting hand on his friend's shoulder, pulling him back upright. Scotty blinked and stared hard through watering eyes at the panel. As different as the designs of Hephasten circuitry were, Scotty knew electricity. He angled the dagger inside the gap between two connection ports. With a flick of his good wrist, he severed the upper wire. There was a sharp click.

" _Hallelujah!_ " McCoy whooped. He flung himself at the door handle and yanked it open. "Now, _get,_ you! G'won!" He hustled Scotty through. The door led to what must be the staff housing. Rows of cots stretched out before them. McCoy looked around. He spotted a pail of water and dashed over to it. Removing his scarf, McCoy soaked it thoroughly and beckoned Scotty over.

"Here. Put this over your mouth and nose. It'll help you breathe easier. I wouldn't be surprised if you've got a broken rib or two. You'll have to give me the full scoop later. Now, let's get outta here!"

It was McCoy's turn to drag Scotty through the abandoned palace. They didn't run into anyone else. The next door McCoy opened revealed the coatroom he'd been snatched off to earlier. He grabbed the last coat off the rack and threw it over Scotty's head. Scotty, not entirely pleased with the arrangement, made his grievances known.

"Ack! What're ye doin', McCoy? Ah can't see a bloomin' thing!"

"Yeah, better you keep the sand outta your face than your face outta the coat. I'm gonna walk us to the Inn. With Summanus uh… outta the picture, it's probably the safest place on this whole danged planet!"

"If ye say so." Scotty let the doctor lead him out of the palace. It occurred to him that he didn't know where the Inn was, even if he was able to see. From what he could observe, the storm was dying down. It didn't seem nearly as hot, although it was no less uncomfortable as before. The wind also seemed to have slackened off. If he was perfectly honest with himself, Scotty found that the coat was very useful. He didn't have a problem trusting McCoy's sense of direction. It let him rest his poor aching brain a minute. If only the rest of him could do the same.

The duo made slow progress at first. After a few minutes, McCoy gained confidence in his navigational skill. They picked up the pace. Scotty kept track of where he was stepping. So, when they arrived at last, he was able to make his way up the steps unaided.

McCoy tried the door: unlocked, fortunately. "C'mon, Scotty, I know a place where we can take a load off for a minute." The engineer threw off the coat and followed his friend down a series of hallways. They arrived in a slightly peach-colored room with ottomans and benches scattered about.

"Siddown before you fall down, Scotty." McCoy slurred as he struggled out of his heavy coat.

"Ah could say th' same for you, Leonard." McCoy snorted in response, but plopped down on a bench.

"I'm beat. Call the ship. Call 'em and tell 'em I'm ready to go."

Scotty chuckled, then coughed. "If Ah can reach 'em, Ah'll get us beamed out o' here before ye can say 'bloody sandstorm'."

He ignored McCoy's 'bloody sandstorm' and reached to his coat pocket for his communicator. _Oh._

Scotty fell back on the bench with a groan. McCoy, misinterpreting the source of his friend's distress, leapt up and rushed to Scotty's side.

"Scotty! What's the matter? What hurts? Talk to me!"

"Ah left it in mah other coat."

McCoy blinked. Scotty stared dumbly back at him.

"Oh."

"Aye. Ah couldnae have put it better mahself."

 


	14. Chapter 14

Shouting in sickbay. Lieutenant Crowley fought the weight of his own eyelids. Blinking, he looked around. Crowley was in one of the back rooms near the operating theatre. The room was empty, save for the biobed and its occupant to his left.

"Kyle? What are you doing up?"

The transporter operator was sitting up in his biobed, listening. "Shh." He held a finger to his lips. "The Captain's back!"

True to his word, the sound of raised voices bounced into their room.

"And _why_ haven't they been found?" It _was_ Captain Kirk!

"Please, Captain. You're distressed. Have a seat."

"I _won't_ , Nurse," He yelled, "Not until every single member of my crew is accounted for!"

"Captain, your behavior is illogical. I suggest you comply with Nurse Chapel's-"

"Oh, now you're against me too, Spock! You're all against me! I won't stand for it! I'm going to bring McCoy and Scott back if I have to fly a shuttle down there myself!"

"Captain-!"

"Spock! Grab him!"

A struggle ensued. Kyle and Crowley exchanged glances. Nurse Chapel's weary diagnosis was softer than the other conversation, so they had to lean in to hear.

"He's exhibiting high levels of stress and anxiety, Spock. I'd say the readings I've been able to take coincide with an anxiety attack."

"The Captain has not experienced anxiety attacks, Nurse, for as long as I have known him. If he is having one now, that would suggest-"

"-Some sort of psychological trauma or distress as of late." Chapel finished. "That's just as disconcerting as it sounds, Mister Spock."

"I'm right here, you know!" Kirk's shout surprised both Crowley and Kyle enough to make them jump.

"We are aware, Captain. Please desist from struggling. You may only injure yourself. The restraints are in place for your own safety."

"What happened down on the planet, Mister Spock? Is there anything that could've triggered this response from him?"

There was a pause. Both eavesdropping patients leaned forward.

"Doctor McCoy described a telepath…"

Kyle turned back to Crowley. "A telepath? Is that as bad as I think it is?"

Crowley made a face. "The Doctor has a terrible track record with them… so it could be. And if that's what's affecting the Captain, then it might even be worse."

Kyle swung his legs off the side of his biobed. "Then we've got to do something about it!"

"Are you crazy? You shouldn't be getting up! You-"

Kyle turned. He had a hard look in his eyes, like a man on a mission. "Listen, Crowley, I know it's been rough around here. I'm not feeling so good as it is, but I owe Commander Scott my life, Doctor McCoy, too. If there's anything I can do to help get them back, nothing in the galaxy could stop me. So, if you think for one second that-"

Crowley raised his hands. "Hold it. I'm all for rescuing Doctor McCoy and Commander Scott, but you're escaping Sickbay _all wrong."_ Crowley grinned. "There's a better way."

* * *

 

Nurse Chapel frowned at the chart. Captain Kirk hadn't been exposed to direct telepathic contact according to Spock. That still didn't explain how a telepathic _broadcast,_ like McCoy had apparently described, affect him all the way out in orbit.

The Captain was glowering at her from the biobed. Well, he was when he wasn't frantically searching the room for goodness knows what, or trying to bust his way out of the prescribed restraints. They had sent down their security team in search of the missing crew. The storm was dying down, but some electromagnetic interference had cropped up and started wreaking havoc on the comm system. It had been an agonizing half-hour, but soon, Spock had picked up multiple shuttles inbound. It seemed almost too good to be true. Turns out, it was.

Midway through the approach, the shuttles had turned landward again. Everyone scrambled to get communications online. Eventually, contact was reestablished and the problem was identified: Not _everyone_ had been accounted for. Among the missing were the obvious Scott and McCoy, Lieutenants Moroga Stacey, Nadwin Aibara, and the well liked Eddie Leslie, as well as Ensigns Jhoseline Ried and Carter Sinclair.

Spock was on the bridge coordinating the search. The available crew pulled double shifts assist. The whole ship was buzzing with concentrated activity. Unoccupied crewmen flocked to the bridge to help adjust scanners. Many were there to troubleshoot or put out fires (often not literally).

No one had been required to venture down to Sickbay, thank goodness, but Nurse Chapel still had her work cut out for her.

"Honestly! You're going to pull a muscle if you keep that up, Captain. We're doing everything we can to get Mister Scott and Doctor McCoy back. It should only be a matter of time before we can isolate their communicator signals." Chapel had kept in contact with the Bridge, keeping updated on the status of the search.

"I _know_ that, Nurse!" Kirk whined. "But I _have_ to get _out_ and look for them! Something terrible will happen if I don't, I just know it!"

Chapel sighed. She didn't know what to do. The symptoms had deviated from an anxiety attack to something completely unfamiliar. Kirk's respiratory rate had increased, yes, and he had shown signs of panic, trembling, and irritability, but the fact that he was behaving almost as he would in any other search and rescue situation was peculiar. Yes, Kirk didn't typically _throw_ _himself_ against logic and reason to rescue a crewmember, but that didn't mean he hadn't felt the need to do so. _It's almost as if something's amplified the concern for his crew to the point where he can't think about anything else._ Chapel considered, _What could do that? A telepath, maybe, but what telepath could do that from such a distance?_

Suddenly, the Captain jerked. He screamed. He thrashed against the restraints. Chapel snatched a tricorder and called for reinforcements. " _Page! Morris!_ One of you, get in here _now!_ The other one needs to wake up Clyde. We need all hands on deck!"

Morris sprang through the doorway, medkit in hand. "What's happening? What _happened?_ "

The Captain was writhing. "No! Get away from him!" He shouted at some unseen terror. "Stop! _Bones! Run!"_

 _"_ Morris, load up a sedative, just enough to get him to sleep. I don't want to dose him with anything too strong before we know what's wrong with him."

All the while, Kirk kept shouting. " _Bones!_ Scotty, _no!_ " His back arched. Suddenly, it was just one continuous scream ripping from Kirk's chest.

" _Morris, the hypo!_ " Chapel growled. The junior Nurse fumbled with the cap.

"Got it, got it!" He moved to Kirk's side.

As suddenly as he had begun, the Captain stopped. Morris and Chapel froze. Kirk was breathing heavily, but he had stilled otherwise. Nurse Chapel moved Morris aside and leaned over the Captain.

"Captain Kirk? Captain, can you hear me? What happened?"

After a moment, Kirk's eyes fluttered open. "Nurse… It was McCoy and… Scott. They were under attack… I saw… I saw…" He took another deep breath. "I believe it was an illusion. Doctor McCoy tried to warn me earlier. The telepath, Summanus, is adept at broadcasting images or emotions, McCoy said. I'm sure that's what was going on."

Chapel pursed her lips. It was just as Spock had described, but something seemed off still. "And she just stopped?"

Kirk nodded. "It started to get worse on the shuttle. But now, she's not there anymore. I think she might be… dead. I can't feel the source anymore at all."

For a moment, Chapel studied her patient. His vitals were returning to normal, which was a good sign. He seemed more coherent than before, offering explanations instead of just demands.

"Alright. Morris, give him a mild painkiller instead of a sedative. I'll call Spock. He'll probably want to see the readings for himself, since there's an evidently powerful telepath involved."

Morris responded in the affirmative and made for the wall comm. In all the commotion, no one had seen Lieutenants Crowley and Kyle sneak out.

* * *

 

Visibility was up to half a mile. Lieutenant Uhura was encouraged by the development, but it didn't improve conditions by much. It was still hot-as-Vulcan, and everyone was still in dress uniform. Uhura scanned the area. She had been surprised that nearly every single member of the crew had been accounted for from the get-go. When she and Lieutenant Palmer had escaped Summanus' Inn with Chief Freeman and Lieutenant DeSalle, they had quickly rendezvoused with Horatius Valerius. The Hephasten rebel had led them to a warehouse on the other side of town. There, they met up with Valerius' cousin, Evandrus something, and had stolen a couple of delivery trucks.

Now, through a series of miracles, they were gathered together again. Their first instinct had been to get back to the ship as quickly as they could. Midway through the trip, they did a headcount. Midway through the trip, the unanimous decision was made to turn around.

"No one gets left behind." someone had declared.

So, here they were. The Sciences had gotten together with Engineering to rig up a systematic scanning procedure. They were focusing on communicator signals first, life signs second. Odds were, with the limited technology available at present, they wouldn't be able to differentiate between Hephasten and Human physiology anyway.

Uhura turned back to their temporary base of operations: the immediate space outside the shuttle _Galileo_. She saw Lieutenants Palmer and Sulu sorting their food rations. A few crewmen in blue were distributing supplies among the search parties. The Command Division had made the decision to divide up into groups of eight-to-ten, for safety's sake, and search for the missing crew on foot. They were arming themselves with phasers, tricorders, and medkits. Each group had at least one Security officer and one Medical officer in their ranks.

"All right, everyone!" Sulu hopped up to the doorway of the _Galileo_. The chatter stopped and all eyes were on him. "You all have your section of the city. Communications are spotty on the ground, but you should all be able to stay in contact with us here. Each group should check in every half-hour or at any sign of trouble." Sulu paused, scanning the crowd to make sure everyone was truly ready.

"Good. Now, let's spread out and try to-"

" _Lieutenant Sulu!"_ A voice hollered from the back. "There's something headed this way!"

Sure enough, a large cloud of dust completely apart from the dying storm could be seen on the edge of visible terrain. It was getting closer.

"Everyone, take up defensive positions behind the shuttles! Phasers on stun, we still don't know who they are!"

The crowd scattered, each party finding a location to defend from. Uhura grabbed a phaser and took a stance by Palmer and the supply crates. Sulu jumped back down from the _Galileo_ and crouched next to them.

"What do you think it is?" Palmer turned to Sulu. "Soldiers? The missing crew?"

"Hard to tell from this distance." Sulu commented. "It looks too large to be just a few people. We'd better be ready for anything."

As the cloud drew closer, it was becoming apparent that there was a large group of people headed their way. Uhura felt a sense of déjà vu. It was almost exactly like the group that had met them in the beginning. _Except,_ Uhura realized, _This is a much bigger group._

Sulu's fingers twitched near the trigger of his phaser. He was getting a better idea of the numbers they were up against. _It's a lot,_ he observed, _but nothing that three-quarters of a starship can't handle._ Individual figures were becoming clearer. Sulu squinted, trying to make out the shapes. After a moment, his eyes widened. To Uhura's great surprise, Sulu scrambled to his feet and leapt over their improvised barricade.

"Sulu! Where are you going?"

"Hold your fire!" The helmsman shouted, moving quickly toward the incoming party. A few figures broke off from the group and began running towards them. Uhura counted five people in the breakaway. Then, she noticed the red, yellow, and blue.

"It's them!" She called to the others. Uhura, Palmer, and most of the nearby crew rushed out from their positions. Everyone from Medical fiddled with their tricorders and pushed to the front.

"Hold it!" Sulu instructed from up ahead. He had slowed as the five missing crewmen came up to the crowd. "Are you all okay? Any of you fit to tell us what happened first?"

Lieutenant Leslie stepped forward. "I am, Sulu. Is everyone all right? What're you all still doing down here?"

"We were looking for you guys, Leslie. First things first, though, what happened to you? Why weren't you in the bunkers with the rest of us? And… who are all of these people?" Sulu finally drew his attention to the rest of the new arrivals. They were locals. It looked like one or two hundred Hephastens, all gathered in a ring behind the recovered crewmen.

"Oh! It's a bit of a long story. You see, it was getting dark and everyone was heading to the bunkers, right? Well I suppose we were all at the back of the crowd. Before we got too close to the bunkers, a group of these people," Leslie gestured at the crowd behind him, "They grabbed us and took us to some sort of safe house where they explained everything. We were pretty shocked at first, seeing as how we'd all been tricked into coming down. Then, the sandstorm really picked up- I'm sure you know all about it- and we had to lay low because the safe house wasn't exactly structurally sound after the quake. It wasn't reinforced like the bunkers or anything. I guess day broke and they said we could go. They've got a whole network of spies and intelligence, this clan. Said they'd received a report from one of their go-between guys that the city's power had been cut."

As Leslie had been talking, a murmur rose up in the crowd behind him. Sulu looked over to see what had grabbed the locals' attention. To his surprise, he saw that the storm had practically cleared over the city proper and a massive black cloud broiled over the rooftops. Suddenly, the cloud widened at the bottom, moving upward with great speed. The crowd was rippling. Every eye had turned toward the city.

"What's going on?" Sulu moved closer to the group of Hephastens. An older lady turned from the masses to face the helmsman.

"The palace has collapsed. We could see some smoke earlier this day, but we did not realize that the entire building was in engulfed…"

Sulu decided to take the opportunity to get some more information. Only five of the missing seven had returned. Where, then, were the other two? "Pardon me, ma'am," Sulu started, getting the woman's attention once again, "but did you see any more of our crew? We're missing two men: our Chief Medical Officer and our Chief Engineer."

Her eyes widened, and she nodded slowly. "I know of whom you speak. Let me find him… My son has seen the Great Warrior and his doctor." Sulu decided not to question whatever this strange old lady had just said as she turned to search the crowd for her son. He had learned long ago from his own grandmother that sometimes you just had to field the curveballs as best as you could. The woman soon returned with her grown son in tow.

"Tell this nice man about what you saw, Cyprian." The woman instructed, and Sulu resisted the urge to laugh. Very much like his gran, indeed.

Cyprian, slightly disgruntled about being addressed and introduced in this manner, cleared his throat. "I saw your Great Warrior this morning. Not very long ago. I was out in the streets observing the activity at the palace. Around the time that the smoke began to pour from the roof, two men ran from the servants' entrance. I recognized your doctor from the field hospital. The other… I have heard the legends of your Chief Engineer. At once, I recognized the gauntlet of the Warrior."

"Hold on just a second," Sulu interrupted, "Where exactly did you here about these uh… 'Legends'?"

"From Young Aulus Valerius. He came early this morning to report that your Chief Engineer had destroyed the power station. True to his word, the power had been disabled. We were all beginning to wonder if The Valerius plan had succeeded."

Sulu was trying to puzzle out exactly what this man had just told him. Luckily, Uhura was standing nearby. "Aulus, you say? I met a young boy named Aulus at the Inn. Is he the same one who delivers your messages?"

Cyprian nodded. "He is indeed."

Uhura turned to the confused helmsman. "Aulus helped Palmer and I escape. He gave us back our weapons and a communicator before pointing us in your direction. I believe he was on his way to rescue Doctor McCoy and the Captain. I guess he succeeded."

"Yes, but the Doctor and Commander Scott are still unaccounted for. You say they blew up a power plant?"

"It housed the device that was used to destroy the city. The Valerius plan called for it to be disabled. Truly, we did not know the miracles that your Engineer could work. It is astounding."

Sulu might have commented on the appropriate nature of that phrase, but Uhura cut in with a question. "You said you saw them? Can you tell us where they are now?"

A strange expression came over Cyprian's face. "We have just come from the city. True, the palace is now in ruins and the monarchy fallen, but the streets are hardly peaceful." He looked to Uhura, then to Sulu, and then back again. He sighed.

"I know where they are located. You will not like it."

* * *

 

The ground shook. McCoy shot up off the bench he was reclining on. "What on earth was _that?_ Another earthquake? I'm no geologist but- Hey!" He turned to Scotty, who was trying to sit up. "You better park it right there, Mister. You're not going anywhere unless I say so."

"Aye, Captain." Scotty sighed.

"Don't you start givin' me lip. I dragged your sorry carcass outta that burning building, hauled you halfway across town in this blasted sandstorm-"

Exasperated, Scotty gave up. "Oh for the love! Just go see what it was, McCoy! Ah'll stay right here, Ah swear!" He dropped back onto the bench without another word.

"Hmph." McCoy grunted. "Fine. But don't you move."

"Ye've got a gift for redundancy, Doctor."

"Now you're starting to sound like Spock. And here I thought I had a friend. That Vulcan's turning all y'all against me!"

He cracked a smile before picking himself up and heading toward the door.

"I'm gonna leave this open," McCoy said, gesturing, "Because it doesn't open from the inside. If we have to get outta Dodge, it'd be easier with the road clear."

With one last glance behind him, McCoy jogged down the winding hallways of the Quaestinarius base and out into the Inn lobby. He found the front door slightly ajar.

"Storm must've blown it open." He commented. McCoy pulled the handle and took a look outside. Contrary to his deduction, the storm seemed to have tired itself out. A stray gust of grit here or there was all that was left of the monstrous sand fire. After a cursory glance, McCoy noticed something unusual about the landscape. A huge black ball of smoke was making its way skyward. _The palace,_ His mind filled in, _It must've finally given out. That means…_

McCoy turned quickly and rushed back into the building. He ran all the way back to the containment room.

"Scotty! Scotty, the palace is gone! We're home free!" McCoy rounded the corner and stepped through the one door. True to his word, the engineer hadn't move since McCoy had left. "C'mon, Scotty! We've got to get to the shuttles! I bet the others are already taking off! Evandrus said somethin' or other about a rescue. Well, hop to it, man! We've got a shuttle to catch!"

He moved to Scotty's side. For the first time, he noticed a chill in the room. _Funny. It wasn't this cold before._ McCoy tried rationalizing the phenomenon. _Maybe this place has some sorta AC and the thing's finally kicked on…_

Scotty lay unmoving. McCoy arrived at the bench's side. The first thing he saw was the bleeding gash radiating red across his friend's forehead. "Scotty!" He cried, lurching forward. A good once-over of the injury told the doctor that it wasn't anything serious, just a solid whack. _And a scary lookin' one at that._ McCoy picked up Scotty's wrist and felt for a pulse. Thankfully, he didn't have to search for long.

Before McCoy could breathe a sigh of relief, he noticed the wheezing. That didn't inspire much confidence. _Well, for a man with probable broken ribs, Scotty ain't doin' half bad. If he wakes up quickly, we can still high-tail it outta here before-_ Footsteps. McCoy managed to whirl himself around in time to see the door slam shut.

No one was inside the room. At first he thought a stray breeze might be responsible. He remembered the dying sandstorm and disregarded that hypothesis. Then, he saw the helmeted head through the porthole window. They were trapped.

McCoy craned his neck. He couldn't see anyone beyond the single, back-facing helmet. They were all alone. Sensing that they were in no _immediate_ danger, McCoy went back to tend to his patient. To his immense relief, Scotty began to stir.

"Scotty!" McCoy took to the bench-side. "Say somethin'! What happened, Scotty?"

The engineer groaned, turning his head to the side. _Wrong side,_ McCoy thought as his friend winced. "Stay with me, Scotty. Come on. Look over here, that's it."

Scotty's eyes cracked open. "Did ye get th' number on that shuttle?"

McCoy snorted. "That joke's older than my great-grandma, God rest her soul. How's the head feeling? Can you remember what happened to you?"

Scotty's face scrunched. "Ye left t'see what made that awful racket… Then…" His eyes flew open and, if it hadn't been for McCoy's restraining hand, he might have fallen off the bench.

"Whoa, there! Easy, Scotty, easy. You're gonna hurt yourself!" Once the engineer had been guided back down to a safe position, McCoy nodded for him to continue.

"It was an ambush, pure an' simple!" Scotty lifted a sleeve to wipe his brow and grimaced. McCoy took over, clearing away some of the blood with his own sleeve. "They came in just after you were gone. Two of 'em, there were, rushed in. One of 'em ran forward an' clocked me with the hilt o' his sword. Next thing Ah know, you're back and we're stuck in this icebox." Scotty shivered for emphasis.

"Yeah, well," McCoy mopped up the last of the congealed blood, leaving the fresh flow to help him draw conclusions on the extent of the injury. "It wasn't so much fun for me the first time either. There's a blanket or somethin' lyin' around here somewhere." He pushed himself to his feet and looked around the beige prison. "There you are." It was a few quick steps to the blanket and back. McCoy examined the cloth and made to start tearing a section off before Scotty stopped him.

"Uh, Leonard? Ah don't know if ye noticed, but there's a medkit lyin' right there next t'your foot."

McCoy looked down. Sure enough… "Mhmm. Thanks, Scotty. Here," He tossed the oddly colored blanket at his friend before stooping to retrieve the medkit he'd used earlier. "I'd forgotten all about this thing." McCoy pointed to the bandage around his neck. "It came in handy earlier today, more than once. Huh. Looks like you 'n the Captain'll be matching. Wonder if I can get the hobgoblin in on it…" With the last comment directed more at himself, McCoy finished his musings and began ministrations. "So, Scotty, in general, how are you feeling?"

"Like Ah got hit by a shuttle."

"Mhmm." The doctor hummed noncommittally. "Do you think you'll be able to stay awake for a couple of quick tests, or are you feelin' about ready for a good nap?" He tied off the bandage in a knot directly over the wound.

"Honestly, as good as that sounds, Ah don't think it's such a grand idea. What if Ah have a concussion?"

McCoy cracked a grin. "You don't, 'least, not as far as I can tell. You spotted that medkit awful quick, that knocks blurred vision off the list." McCoy began counting off symptoms on his fingers. "Your memory's sound, you know who I am and where we are. Headache's present, but gee, why wouldn't it be? Looks like they did a number on you. You're also pretty clear-headed and apparently not drowsy. These are all great signs. So, uh, just tell me if you're feelin' like revisitin' dinner or if the lights get too bright all o' the sudden."

Scotty shifted himself on the ottoman. "Will do, Doctor. In the meantime, how'd you suppose we get out of here?"

It was a good question. McCoy pursed his lips. "Well. That-there door only opens from the outside. Believe me, Jim tried. We don't have communicators on hand, but that doesn't mean the ship won't be able to distinguish our life signs. And-" He scanned the Scotsman's face.

"You know all this already, don't you? What're you thinkin' about?"

Scotty sighed. "Ah'm thinkin' about stayin' awake. A minute ago, Ah was fine, but now…" He trailed off, and that seriously worried McCoy.

"Scotty, you've gotta stay with me. I know that you know that head injuries are no laughing matter. If you can't stay awake on your own, you _know_ that I'm gonna do whatever it is I need to do to keep you from fallin' asleep. An' that includes GETTING YOUR UNDIVIDED ATTENTION!" McCoy shouted as he circled around towards Scotty's head. The engineer winced.

"All right, all right, Ah can hear ye loud an' clear."

"GOOD!" McCoy grabbed a smaller seat and pulled it up to the ottoman. "Now, we're gonna sit here and talk, or I'm gonna sit here and _you're_ gonna talk, or I can sit here and shout and _slap you back into consciousness!_ " Scotty's eyes snapped open. He squinted against the light. Something occurred to him then.

"Why does this place have power?"

McCoy looked around, taking in all the bright bulbs and recognizing the hums within the walls. "You know, I took it for granted, sure enough. Forgot there'd been a power outage. Whaddya know? An' we were even the ones that caused it. Betcha Summanus has- had a backup generator runnin' somewhere in here. Her boys probably regrouped here 'cause they knew there'd be power."

"Aye. Seems t'be the case. How long before the _Enterprise_ starts searching for us?"

"Hmm…" McCoy considered, "I'd say pretty soon, if they're not out looking already." He paused. "Scotty, given that the sandstorm outside has just about blown itself out, what kind of condition are the comms in? How likely is it that communication's been reestablished with our people on the ground and with the ship?"

Scotty didn't respond right away. McCoy turned to find his friend not unconscious, thankfully, but deep in thought.

"Ah'd say," the reply came after a moment, "That it's as likely as anythin' that communications have already been established an' more likely than not, everyone's back on the ship. That is, if they're not runnin' a search or on their way presently."

"You think so?"

"Aye. If it were me, Ah'd throw everything into comms that wasn't already in shields and screens. The transporter's probably still offline, so we'd have all hands, just about, workin' t'make contact. An' if Ah was with the crew trapped in the bunkers, well, Evandrus said that cousin o' his had already sprung the crew, so Ah'd be tryin' t'call the ship. Either way, they're both workin' toward the same goal. Shouldn't be too long before everyone's on th' same page. That is, if they aren't already."

"That's…" For a moment, McCoy was at a loss for words. "That's pretty comprehensive, Scotty. You sure you're drowsy? You don't usually hear the whole spiel from somebody with a concussion. Well, maybe if that somebody's a genius…"

He trailed off. Before Scotty could so much as take a breath to respond, the door burst inwards. A heavily armored Hephasten walked in; clad in the same sort of gear they'd seen the last of the Quaestinarius in during their sightseeing trip through the palace. It was clear to both men that this new soldier meant business: She held a sword in one hand, and an odd phaser in the other.

"You," She addressed the Starfleet men. "Tell your Captain to give in to our demands. He is being… obstinate, and must be persuaded."

McCoy looked back to his patient. A few beads of sweat had appeared on Scotty's brow. _So, not doing too great, then._ He turned his attention back to their visitor.

"And just how are we supposed to do that?" McCoy quipped.

"He is able to see and hear everything that goes on in this room." She replied. "We have hailed your ship and are broadcasting now."

About as soon as the words had left her lips, Scotty bolted upright, shouting for all he was worth.

" _Don't give 'em anything, Cap'n!_ Their organization's in shambles, Summanus is-" He was cut off abruptly by a bolt from the guard's phaser. McCoy watched in horror as the short beam singed through Scotty's shoulder, just above the right collarbone.

"Scotty!" McCoy threw an arm out in an attempt to protect his friend. Before he could get too far, another blast seared his bicep, and then passed between the two men's heads.

The guard lowered her phaser. McCoy bit back a scream. Scotty had collapsed back onto the ottoman. _Shock, probably,_ McCoy's medical mind commented over the howling chaos. If he listened close, over the sudden pounding in his ears and the residual whir of the last two shots, he could hear a tiny voice. It was angry, somewhere. Apparently, the guard heard it too. She cocked her head to the side and listened.

"Ah. Duty calls, gentlemen."

The guard turned to leave. Before the door slammed shut, McCoy heard a sound that had haunted many a nightmare in his lifetime. Involuntarily, he squeezed his eyes shut.

* * *

 

At long last, Captain Kirk was on the Bridge again.

He was back, on _his_ ship, with _his_ crew, working together to sort this wild mess out. A few minutes ago, he had received a call from Lieutenant Uhura saying that they'd found five of the seven missing crewmembers and that the palace in Flagratus had collapsed. Kirk, having given up trying to figure out _why_ all of these things were happening, thanked Uhura and almost closed the connection. Turns out, she had more news than he'd been expecting.

Now, Captain Kirk paced the Bridge. He couldn't keep still in the Captain's chair. Not now. Not when they were this close. As their current communications officer coordinated ground efforts with the interim Ensign onboard the ship, Chekov and a handful of technicians were up to their elbows in circuitry, keeping the signal alive. Spock glided from station to station, moving quickly but smoothly from one spot to another. He was supervising not only the comm adjustments, but also the scanner modifications and shield levels. Spock was moving around and keeping tabs quietly. Kirk, however, was running a different operation. Spock wanted numbers, Kirk wanted results.

"Mister Chekov, how's the signal looking?"

The Ensign saluted and gave his report. "Everything's fully functional and operating at maximum possible efficiency, _sir!_ "

"Good." Kirk barked at another station. "Navigation, report! What's the situation with our scanners?"

One of the yeomen at the Navigation console jumped. "We're still working to differentiate between Human and Hephasten life signs, sir! We should be able to implement a city-wide scan in half an hour, sir!"

"Halve that, yeoman! I don't know precisely what's going on down there, but I want Doctor McCoy and Commander Scott found, and found quickly!" He paced another circuit from the turbolift doors to Spock's usual station. Kirk stopped once again behind the Captain's chair. He gazed into the view screen, willing the scanners to recalibrate faster, for the ground crew to regroup sooner.

Spock stepped forward from the helm to stand next to his Captain. Kirk looked at him silently, half pleading for good news, half daring for bad. The Vulcan seemed to interpret this look and replied in his usual neutral tone.

"Captain, at our current rate of recalibration, we should be able to locate Doctor McCoy and Mister Scott within the hour. The search parties on the ground have identified the area in which they _believe_ the Doctor and Mister Scott are located."

"'Believe', Spock?"

"Affirmative. Eyewitness reports place McCoy and Scott in the House of Summanus as of approximately one hour ago. It is unclear whether or not they remain."

Kirk felt the blood drain from his face. Likely, the shift was noticed. Spock amended, "Of course, both Commander Scott and Doctor McCoy are well aware of the dangers surrounding their location. It is logical to consider that they may have found an alternate egress."

"Nice catch, Spock…" Kirk murmured. More audibly he replied, "That may very well be the case, Spock. Thank you for your input." He turned to the Engineering console. The yeoman in charge of that set of instruments looked back at him warily.

"Yeoman…?" Kirk ventured. The man in red gulped. Everyone on the Bridge knew that their Captain's patience was stretched thin. Despite Nurse Chapel's declaration of 'fit for duty', the crew still had their suspicions that Kirk was 'wound tighter than a constipated rattlesnake', as Doctor McCoy would put it. Either way, the yeoman had been called upon to report. So, report he shall.

"Shields are holding at 96% power. Screens at 98%. There are also no new power readings from the planet's surface. All net powers from the time just after the blackout remain constant."

" _All_ net powers? What was active after the plant exploded?"

The yeoman gulped again and turned to his instruments. Kirk strode over, followed closely by Spock.

"Right here, sir, and here, and here." The yeoman said, indicating output lights on his console. "They're too weak to be any kind of weaponry, electrical grids, or higher-level computer centers. As far as the readings indicate, I'd say we're looking at small-time power sources. Generators, radios, maybe something strong enough to light a building, or open a communications channel, but nothing big."

"Communications, you say?" Kirk mused. He opened his mouth to inquire further, but what cut off by a call from the Communications console.

"Captain! Incoming message from the planet's surface."

Kirk sighed. "You're fairly busy today, Ensign. What is it this time? Has the search team found anything?"

"S-sir…" Something in the Ensign's voice grabbed Kirk's attention. He turned to face the console directly.

"What is it?"

"It's not from the crew sir. It's from somewhere called… Um… Question-er-us or something should I-"

"Onscreen, Ensign, at once!" Kirk moved to face the view screen, nearly barreling over Spock in the process. The raised eyebrow went completely unnoticed as Kirk took up a position behind his chair.

The Bridge fell silent. A few tense moments passed. Then, the screen lit up, displaying an unfamiliar face.

"Captain Kirk." A Hephasten soldier. Kirk assumed him to be one of Summanus' men.

"And who are you?" He cut right to the chase. No fooling around this time.

"I am Tesserar Helvus, Head of the Quaestinarius." This was Summanus' replacement. Kirk's suspicions were confirmed. The spymaster was dead.

"Well, Tesserar, what do you want?"

The Hephasten seemed taken aback by Kirk's direct manner. He struggled a moment, then found his words.

"We wish for your immediate departure from our planet. This, along with the surrender of all of your shuttlecraft-"

"Hmph." Kirk chuckled, grinning. "No."

The Tesserar was completely thrown. While he stammered in confusion, Kirk took command of the negotiation.

"Now, you listen to me, _Tesserar,_ " He spat, "We have been lied to. We have been lured here under false pretenses. We have given you aid. We have _assisted_ in the _recovery_ of your city and your people." He paused, letting the statements sink in. " _You_ on the other hand, have proven yourselves to be _very ungracious_ hosts." Kirk smiled, a terrifying expression. "And I've had enough of it. We will no longer cooperate with you _or_ the so-called 'High Council', _or_ the Velites, if any of them are still around."

The Tesserar's mouth opened and closed without sound. Kirk backed off from his chair and paced the split-level casually. Then, he went in for the kill.

"Your government is in shambles. You have no power, you have no control. Turn over all remaining members of my crew, and we may yet decide to show mercy to the few of you that are left."

Kirk leveled his gaze at the Tesserar, who was now almost shaking with fear.

"How about, _now?"_ Kirk commanded, doing very little to keep up the pretense of a request.

Tesserar Helvus paled. Before he could respond, a shorter officer of the Quaestinarius shoved him out of the sightline. Kirk found himself facing down a small, angry-looking woman in full armor.

"And you are…?" Kirk had had just about enough.

"It does not matter to you, _clearly,_ Captain Kirk!" She snarled. "But, as the Tesserar failed to mention, we _do_ have the remaining members of your crew in our possession. The Warrior Engineer and his vassal are _ours_ , Kirk, and you will do as we say!"

 _Vassal?_ Kirk raised an eyebrow and turned to Spock who, surprising no one, also had an eyebrow raised. "I do not have an answer, Captain." Spock stated after reading Kirk's question. The Captain nodded, then returned his attention to the view screen.

"I will not 'do as you say'. I will not do as your _Tesserar_ says. You have no power. You're clinging to the last bargaining chip you can think of, and it won't work. You can't win." Kirk glanced over towards the communications console. While the conversation had been running its course, Ensign Chekov had been frantically splicing wires and routing connections. He caught Kirk's eye and gave him a small, meaningful nod. That was all that the Captain needed to see.

"I will not give in to your demands because, as we speak, my crew is closing in on your location. Regardless of what happens, know this:" Kirk glowered, summoning the full force of his Captain's Glare, "It would be best to remember that _you_ are at _our_ mercy!"

He held this gaze for a moment longer. "Mister Chekov." Kirk addressed his man without turning from the view screen. "Get me Lieutenant Sulu. We will begin the strike on my order."

The Hephasten soldier blinked. It seemed as if the magnitude of Kirk's threat was beginning to dawn on her.

"No…" She breathed. "No!" Louder, more defiantly. Kirk stood straighter. Something had gone wrong. "We cannot fall. I will not allow it!" This was directed not at the Captain, but at her Tesserar. She turned to Kirk again. "You… You must listen to us! I _know_ how humans behave! I have studied under Summanus my whole life! She has shared all!" Something in the soldier's eyes went cold. Kirk's heart sank. This wouldn't be as easy as he had thought.

The soldier disappeared for a moment. A few seconds later, the view screen blurred.

"What's happening?" Kirk turned to the science station, where Spock was already taking over. "Can we get it back?"

"Negative, Captain, as there seems to be nothing wrong with the signal. It is at full strength and still broadcasting." Spock ran over the data again, checking and rechecking in less time than it takes to tell.

Suddenly, the picture stabilized. Kirk was drawn back to the view screen. A familiar setting loomed in front of him.

" _And just how are we supposed to do that?"_

Silence on the Bridge. The soldier was there, in Summanus' prison, leveling a phaser at Scotty and McCoy. As far as Kirk could tell, they were unharmed. Scotty looked to be in a bad way, but he was awake and coherent as far as anyone could tell.

"Spock, try and enhance the quality. I can't quite make out what she's-"

"" _Don't give 'em anything, Cap'n! Their organization's in shambles, Summanus is-"_

Scotty fell back, his own cry mingling with those uttered on the Bridge.

" _Scotty!_ "

Another shot. Kirk lost control.

" _You think this is a game?_ Do you think this is some kind of _match_ where, if you're just _clever enough_ , you can still win? Tesserar! _Tesserar!_ I know you're still right there, cowering next to the console! If my men don't make it out of there alive, it will be on _your head."_ The Captain seethed.

"Mister Spock!" Fists clenched, Kirk whirled. "Find some weapons we can train on the city. Get me phasers on full. Chekov, contact the crew on the ground, I want everyone inside that building _yesterday!_ Full alert to medical! Get me all hands! I want everyone mobilized, I want-"

There was a small gasp. The Captain turned, ready to launch into another tirade. What he saw made his heart skip a beat. For a moment, Captain Kirk didn't know just what to do. Then, when his legs got the better of him, _he ran._

* * *

 

Lieutenant Kyle leaned heavily on the transporter console.

"It worked…" He gasped.

The half-baked plan had actually succeeded. Crowley had been monitoring ship's communications. As soon as the proverbial 'go-ahead' for life-sign-differentiation had been given, Kyle had thrown in the numbers and gunned it.

He tried to drag himself around to the other side. Crowley was making better progress, but really, neither of them should have been out of bed.

"I never though I'd see the day…" Doctor McCoy began in a low tone, "Never thought I'd be so thankful for this blasted contraption. And you two…" For a moment, there was a genuine note of gratitude in his voice as he sat on the transporter pad with an unconscious engineer propped against him. "I never thought I'd be so eager to _tan your hides!_ But I guess here's the universe provin' me wrong again! What're you thinking, Crowley, settin' foot outta Sickbay? Does Chapel know? I might just have't'let _her_ kill you instead!"

Crowley chuckled, very uneasy. "Heh… It's nice to see you too, Do-"

"Don't you gimme any of that _crap_." McCoy growled. "If Scotty here wasn't about as stable as a one-legged horse, I'd get up and beat the tar outta you, so then you'd have't' stay in Sickbay whether you wanted to or not! Who needs legs? Why don't'cha come a little closer so I can give you somethin' t'really be afraid of!"

Crowley took a step back. Kyle said nothing, relieved he had been left out thus far. Lucky him, McCoy didn't know a _thing_ about his own injury.

"And _you_ ," Kyle gulped. Curse this miserable luck. "What'd you do, help him escape? You better _pray_ your shots are up to date, pal, because the second we get off this platform I'm gonna-"

" _Bones!_ "

The door swooshed open. Captain Kirk appeared, flushed, with a small army of people just behind him.

"Jim!" McCoy shouted from the pad. "Spock! Nurse Chapel! Waitaminute! _Nurse Chapel!_ Get over here, on the double! Scotty's down! He's got at least two broken ribs and this here phaser-wound, in addition to a likely concussion, dehydration-"

"Len. Len! Let go. I'll take care of him. That's it. Easy…"

McCoy released his grip. His hands shook. Scotty was loaded up onto a stretcher. Kirk was very thankful that he had called in reinforcements on his way down.

"Bones! You've got to relax. We're taking you to Sickbay too. Come on."

Kirk helped the doctor to his feet, but quickly realized that McCoy wasn't going anywhere on his own.

"Shock…" Chapel murmured. "Let's get him on this other stretcher. Clyde, can you give me a hand?"

Spock found himself out in the corridor following Commander Scott's stretcher. His Captain was seeing to Doctor McCoy. It was only logical that he should monitor the progress of their third in command. They arrived at the turbolift in a matter of moments. Nurse Page, a seemingly competent and well-ordered individual who was currently dispensing hypos like it was going out of style, accompanied him.

"Is there any way I may be of assistance, Nurse?" Spock inquired.

"Of course. I'm preparing a painkiller and I need to comm Nurse Morris. Can you get that glove off of him? We'll need to remove the shirts in a bit, but right now that thing is more in the way."

Spock complied, carefully taking hold of the thick material. It was more difficult than he had anticipated. Spock tugged on the sides of the glove harder. It shifted, but so did something in Mister Scott's face. Spock recognized the expression for what it was: pain. Then, he remembered.

"Nurse Page, Commander Scott has an additional injury. Do you have a sharp implement on hand?"

Page looked at him sideways as she loaded the next hypo. "Sure. Regular scalpel, third slot in the medkit. Careful. That's thick stuff on that glove. If you misjudge your cut, you could slice clean through to his arm."

"I will keep that in mind." Spock quickly located the scalpel and began loosening the top of the glove. He cut through the rank stripes of a commander. He would have to inquire about this further. Soon, the top had loosened enough to where he could pull the glove free without causing Scott too much discomfort. Nurse Page had administered the painkiller already, and was currently calling Nurse Morris to inform him of the two patients incoming.

The glove was off. Spock could now see the full extent of Scott's injury. It was more than he had expected. The biobrace was no longer functional. Pieces had warped from the various strains of the mission. Quite a few components were bent and pressed into the engineer's arm with what looked like uncomfortable force. The skin around his wrist was swollen and dark. Purples, blues and yellows collided over a blanket of red.

Spock took the scalpel in his hands once again. The last remnants of the biobrace stood no chance. Once he had finished, Spock looked back to Scott's face. He knew that humans, so full of emotion, could be easily read whether they were conscious or not. Spock was satisfied to find that Scott's expression conveyed nothing but relief.

The turbolift doors opened. Spock helped guide the stretcher to Sickbay.

 


	15. Epilogue

"They want me to _what?"_ Scotty was incredulous. Here he was, recuperating in Sickbay like a good patient, and all of the sudden, somebody wants him to be part of a diplomatic summit.

"I dunno, Jim." McCoy chimed in. "He might not be ready for this kinda thing. No offense, Scotty, I just don't wanna see you keelin' over in th' middle of a peace talk. Might send out the wrong vibe, let alone the potential threats to your recovery."

Scotty had been wondering about the very same thing. As soon as Kyle and Crowley had beamed them out of Summanus' Inn, the rescue crew had been given the green light to storm the building. It had all been downhill from there. The citizens of Flagratus appeared out of the woodwork, as well as aid crew from other city-states like Humusian.

Apparently, when the power plant went down, so did the interference between planetary communications. It had taken them a while, but Hephastens from all parts of the world were arriving to offer assistance.

As new parties appeared, so did new perspectives. A lot of information was brought to light. Contrary to the _Enterprise's_ belief, the seismic quake had occurred _after_ the distress signal was broadcast. That fact in itself could've saved everyone a lot of trouble, if only it had been readily available. The citizens from other parts of Hephaestus I also knew of the corrupt leadership in Flagratus. However, no one had foreseen the depth of this plot.

In addition to the new outside aid, medical care from Flagratus itself was becoming available. When the High Council had activated the earthquake device, they had thoroughly prepared to launch a full-scale catastrophe. The Quaestinarius had managed to round up all of the skilled or prominent surgeons beforehand and herd them into a secret bunker. Thus, the shortage of doctors.

But, as relief came, so did the need for closure. The citizens of Flagratus deserved to know exactly what had happened. Spock, with the aid of Horatius Valerius, came up with a comprehensive report and delivered it to the Flagratians outside one of the field hospitals. Word spread quickly. It was only a matter of time before the question of government came back into play. A singed, but mostly whole, Merces Evandrus came to the rescue. As soon as his brother Sergius was released from the _Enterprise's_ care, the brothers began campaigning for true democracy and Federation aid. Captain Kirk made a few calls and announced that the Vulcan ship _T'Ana_ was en-route with a veritable brigade of diplomatic personnel. With that prospect on their horizon, the Flagraitans had asked for a middleman.

Scotty sighed. "As much as Ah'd like to, really Ah would, Ah just don't think Ah'm up for it just yet. Like Doctor McCoy said, it might be too much of a strain. Ah'm pure done in as it is."

McCoy nodded, accepting the victory with his usual tact. "Of course I'm right. Now that we've got this thing settled, it'd be best if we let Scotty get his rest. This is gonna be a rough couple of weeks for everybody, so the more shut-eye you can get, the better."

Captain Kirk, who had brought the proposition to Sickbay in the first place, conceded. "All right, Bones. Whatever you say. But, while we're on the topic of recuperation, don't you think you should hit the hay as well?"

McCoy stiffened. It had been a busy few days. He had only just been able to get around to working himself.

"Now Jim, listen I-"

Kirk gave him a pointed look.

McCoy sighed and rolled his eyes heavenward. "Lord, have mercy on me. I am beset by stubborn authority figures."

Despite himself, Kirk cracked a smile. "Get to bed, Bones. Take it easy. There aren't that many patients here anyhow. Your people can handle it."

"Be that as it may, Jim…" McCoy didn't finish his complaint. "I'll be seein' you soon, Scotty. Sleep. I mean it." The doctor took one last look at his patient and headed out the door, followed closely by his Captain.

Scotty was left alone, arm splinted and bandaged to his chest, his shoulder wrapped in more padding than he could manage. He sighed, wondering how he was going to be able to get a good night's sleep with half of him drowning in bandages. The door to the little room swooshed open again. Scotty looked up to find Mister Spock standing in front of him.

"Oh! Good evening, Mister Spock. Ah didnae expect to see you here at such a late hour." Scotty smiled weakly. He wasn't quite sure what to do or say around the First Officer. Spock had watched his back down on the ground, and 'one did not thank logic'. He faced a certain dilemma to be sure.

"I hope I am not intruding. Doctor McCoy has threatened me with repeated injections and various types of bodily harm if I am to interfere with your scheduled sleep cycles."

Scotty chucked. "Aye, that sounds like the good doctor alright. So… to what do Ah, um, owe the pleasure of this visit…?"

Spock refrained from raising an eyebrow. "I have merely come to 'check up on you', Mister Scott. I trust your injuries are not causing you discomfort?"

"No, no, Mister Spock. They've got me on the good stuff."

"Indeed. That is acceptable."

There was a long and uncomfortable pause. Well, uncomfortable for a certain Scotsman, at least.

"If you require anything…" Spock began slowly, "Do not hesitate to ask. I would be willing to provide the necessary aids to facilitate your recovery. If you should desire a certain technical journal or schematic, I will assist you in downloading and retrieving the material."

It wasn't lost on Scotty, the significance of what Spock was offering. The engineer broke into a grin.

"Ah'd be most grateful, Mister Spock. Thank you."

Spock paused for a moment before he nodded and turned to leave. The doors swooshed open, and the Vulcan paused. Turning his head, Spock addressed Scotty.

"It would be… no trouble at all. You are most welcome, Mister Scott."

The doors closed. Scotty leaned back and listened to the familiar hum of his ship.


End file.
